Adventures of Androl and Pevara
by Deborshi448
Summary: Following eleven years after the Last Battle, Androl and Pevara travel the world over. This series is going to be full of Black Tower politics, White Tower politics, breath-taking adventures and heart felt dramas. And I promise you mouth-watering scenes from all our favorite characters, and where I think they might be now. Enjoy!
1. Two Rivers

**Two Rivers**

Night had fallen too swiftly, at least for Androl's liking, and the cold with it. Blessedly, it hadn't rained yet. Andor had been plagued with rainstorms the past few weeks and Androl had spent most part of yesterday grumbling on his horse, bone drenched and sour. _Perhaps, _he thought, _we are far enough west now that the climate hadn't caught up. _It was a sad understanding. It meant rain would soon follow. _Blood and bloody ashes, _Androl thought, as a distant sound of thunder reached vaguely to his ears.

_You have been cursing too much, _Pevara sent. Not much accusation there, just small talk. Androl grimaced nonetheless. _Not a fan of rain, _he sent back.

_I see that. You remind me of Cotton._

_What's that? _Androl scratched his stubble as he nudged his horse forward into a large square. The Green, the townfolk called it, although most of it was of cobblestones, only the four corners guarded by tall trees, connected to each other by small rectangular gardens. At the centre was a small statue of a wolf.

_Cotton? Oh, just a cat I once had. _Pevara's lips had turned ever so slightly. People who did not know her would presume that she was displeased. But Androl knew Pevara's amusement when he saw it.

"There is an Inn. Winespring Inn, it is called, if I'm not wrong. We would be warm there." He led them through the square, onto a large street bustling with a small crowd. The night markets had become quite a sensation in the Two Rivers since the years that followed the lord's declaration of "open trade for all". The lord of the Two Rivers was a wise one, Androl considered. One could find anything the world had to offer, right here in this market place that covered the expanse of four streets that each side of the Green opened into. Every edge of the street had a vendor shouting his wares, but the crowd tonight was small compared to the usual Two Rivers standard. Androl thought he saw some Sharan silk dresses at one of the larger stores and had to push past his incredulity. Several steps later he noticed that Pevara had stopped.

Looking back, he found her off her horse, in conversation with a vendor. Grumbling to himself, he stepped beside Pevara.

"hmm," was all she said, inspecting a ring shaped to a close likeness of the Great Serpent ring she wore in her left hand.

Androl took out his coin purse, waving the vendor off after making the purchase. He handed the ring to Pevara, taking the reins of her horse, leading them away towards the general direction of the Winespring Inn. Pevara had a smile for him to spare.

"What?" he asked.

"You don't need to buy me things, Androl." She said. But he could feel her, in the back of his mind, mighty pleased with herself.

"Well, I have no other use for the money I make, Pevara Sedai."

She nodded with a smile.

Androl was quite certain how he felt for Pevara, and he was somewhat certain of how she thought of him. Neither, in all the years of traveling together, had ever opened that line of conversation. They were old enough to not need much words, and yet, these small gestures were appreciated by both. The markets stretched on long enough to reignite a dull pain that Androl felt in his left hip, him trailing the two horses behind them. _At least no rain._

_I am not much a fan of rain, either, Master Androl. _The same amused turn of lips ghosted Pevara's ageless face. _Burn that woman. _But he made sure to shield this thought.

The markets gave way to a cobbled pathway. A bit more residential, this area. There were other Inns, closer to the great gray walls that lined Emond's Field, but the Winespring was the best. _Best would suit her nicely, _Androl thought.

_Is that so? When I have settled for something far from the best in the past. _Androl did not respond to her provocation. Let the woman have her fun.


	2. Winespring Inn

**The Winespring Inn**

The Winespring Inn was quite a large building, four stories tall, with a stable that covered much of its sprawling side. Handing the horses to the stableboy, Androl made his way to the entrance. The sign was ornate, the letters conveying a feeling of elegance, and a wolfhead flag waved at the very top of the building.

They entered into a warm common area, almost all the tables taken. There were Carheinin nobles at the corner, throwing them looks as soon as they entered before pointedly going back to their conversation.

_Always Daes'dae'mar with that lot, _Pevara sent.

Androl nodded in agreement. Probably the color of his coat, and the ring that Pevara wore hadn't gone unnoticed by those three. Androl had noticed quite of few Carheinin this side of the White river.

Apart from them, a couple of Aiel lounged near the fire and general Two Rivers folk drank their ale in merriment. The Winespring, being the respectable establishment as it was, did not allow dice games here. This simple rule had dissuaded much of the common folk, while the men with deep pockets sat at these tables, eating, drinking and spreading rumors. Androl had missed inns such as this. The two Aiel near the fire were an oddity, but the Two Rivers had enough of these lot to not be such an oddity as to ask questions. Besides, they had probably only wanted to warm themselves tonight.

The common room also had three large portraits above the fire. One was of their lord, Perrin Aybara, a huge man with golden eyes. Another was of the Dragon Reborn. Androl had seen him from afar so he could tell the painting was a close likeness. As for the one in the middle, Androl was not sure, but he thought he knew the stole the woman in the painting was wearing. He had read books with other women wearing that stole.

"The Young Amyrlin," Pevara said. She shrugged when Androl looked at her questioningly.

"Never really knew her, but that's what the books are calling her. Probably the greatest Amyrlin in White Tower history."

"Any Amyrlin leading the Aes Sedai into the Last Battle would go down as the greatest," Androl said nonchalantly.

Pevara leveled him with a gaze. They had both been there. They had both seen the brilliant flash of light. Only when the war had ended did Androl realize the true repercussions of that light. A single woman had taken down all enemy channelers. And Mazrim Taim. No, perhaps not just any Amyrlin could have done that.

_I sided against her._ Pevara sent, a morose tone.

_The wheel weaves as the wheel wills. _Androl's reply was met with annoyance.

If Pevara hadn't sided against the rebel Amyrlin, she would never have bonded Androl, and he might never have even met her. And that was that. Still, there were other things that had come with Pevara's choice. Neither liked talking about it, though, so Androl simply made his way towards the innkeeper's desk.

"Ho, innkeeper!" Androl smiled.

The innkeeper had white in his hair and a distinct expression of boredom. Seemed like no nonsense kind of a fellow, so Androl got straight to the point.

"A room, if you please."

"We only have the one room available right now, Guardian."

A lot of people had taken to calling the Asha'man that. Guardian. A loose translation of the Old Tongue, but it suited the Black Tower well. Guardian seemed like a lofty title to Androl, and many people would shoot his black coat and his two pins – the sword and the dragon – an uncomfortable look. The Carheinin would, and so would every southern country. Even Andorans at times, but never the Two Rivers. Which was why he liked to come here whenever he could. There was a level of respect for the Asha'man here, akin to the Aes Sedai. _Who would have thought?_

"That would do." Pevara said.

The innkeeper regarded her ageless face.

"It is meant for newlyweds, but I could arrange for two separate beds if you like, Aes Sedai."

Pevara blushed. Oh, only inwardly; her face never saw emotion, but, Light, if Androl couldn't tell. He himself felt his cheeks warm up, more so from Pevara's emotions than his own.

"Umm – " Androl started inaudibly, but Pevara cut him off.

"That would do." She repeated. The innkeeper simply nodded.

"Dinner would be served momentarily, I highly recommend my wife's cooking. Best in all of Emond's Field, if I do say so myself."

Androl nodded and told him they would join the common room for dinner in an hour, then proceeded with their baggage up the stairs.


	3. A Close Shave

**A Close Shave**

A few servants showed up later to rearrange the room for separate beds. Androl was shaving and Pevara, with a heavy book in her arms, waited for him to finish. She could hear the splashes of water, and then in the next second, a tiny curse.

_Cut yourself again? _Pevara didn't lift her eyes from the book as Androl entered, drying his face.

_Using the One Power would be easier. _Pevara had a raised eyebrow, only thing of her face that Androl could see beyond the book.

_Yes, but I like to do the mundane stuff with my hands._

_If you say so._

Only when Androl opened his bag and took out a few sheets of paper did she finally look up from her book.

"Better word your letter properly. You have experience with nobles?"

"A few times, ran into a couple of them in a tavern in Tear."

Pevara sniffed. "Must have been a distasteful experience. Here," she said, getting off the bed, "let me do the writing. The lords like flowery writing, and I do not want to be stuck here in the rain for weeks to come. One wrong word and we won't get an audience till the next age."

Androl plopped himself on her bed, just as Pevara sat herself in front of the table.

"All yours. Although I have heard that this Perrin Aybara, he isn't much like the other lords." Androl was stuffing some tabac in his pipe. Best quality tabac he could ever get.

"He is married to the Queen of Saldea." She said matter-of-factly. Androl shrugged. Pevara turned on her chair, facing him.

"Wear a shirt, Androl, or you are going to catch a cold. I hate to coddle you as it is."

Coddle? Him? If this was called coddling then he would plant a hug to every trollock who had ever had the thought of putting a dagger in his gut. Light, the past few days he hadn't even got so much as a peck!

_If pecking is what you want, you should have bonded a Green. Now don't disturb me. _She went on scribbling. Androl mumbling to himself, got up, put on a coat, then made to open the door.

"Join me for dinner?"

"Soon." She said fondly, not really looking up from her papers.


	4. Grady's Predicament

**Grady's Predicament**

Androl stumbled down, lighting his pipe as he went. The common room hadn't changed much – the Aiel had left, but rest of it was pretty much the same. The Carheinin gave him a look, so Androl gave them a sincere smile. They frowned and went back to their talks, although the handsome man among them smiled back. Good enough.

He found himself a chair at a table near the fire. Letting out a nice trail of smoke, he settled down. One of the servants asked him if he would like something to drink, and Androl had recently taken a liking to the Seanchan Kaf, so he asked him whether they served that.

"We have kaf with milk, Ebou Dar honey kaf, and strong blended black kaf, my lord."

There were _types _of kaf? Something new you learned every day.

"I am no lord, boy, just an Asha'man. Get me the Ebou Dar one."

"Anything to go with? We have sweetpies."

"Beautiful." He replied but was distracted by a man talking with the innkeeper. He wore a black coat.

The man made towards him. Androl recognized him and patted his back as the man sat down to his side, pulling a chair.

"Ho, Grady! How goes?" Androl was positively beaming. Grady's wrinkles around his eyes softened into a smile.

"All is well, as far as I can tell. Bloody rain stopped for a bit, back on full swing now."

Androl noticed his coat had been wet. The noise of the inn had covered the sound of the rain outside.

"Master al'Vere sent me word. Heard an Asha'man had come to town." That was his way of an explanation.

"Master al'Vere is the innkeeper I presume." Androl said, letting out smoke. Grady pulled out his own pipe.

"Right old chap, that. A good man." Androl nodded. Grady motioned to a servant boy.

"Jolle, get us some ale, will you?"

The boy made for the bar at once.

"How are the wife and kids?" Androl asked amicably.

"Lord Goldeneyes got us some nice land. A bit of a walk from the markets, but I don't like the din anyway. The wife, she complains of the commute, but all is well."

"So, no plans of coming back to the Black Tower then?"

Grady grimaced.

"I come for my reports, and I come for the Table meetings. It's not that I don't want to come back, I am as much a part of it as you are, Androl."

Androl said nothing as the boy brought two cups of ale. Grady pulled a face again, looking at Androl.

"It's just… I am an ambassador of the Black Tower to the Two Rivers. It is not wrong for me to build a house here. Plus, my wife…"

Androl understood. Besides, it was true. Logain had sent various ambassadors to powerful seats of the world, a means to influence nations and improve the Black Tower standings amongst the countries. The ambassadors largely worked out of the nations they were assigned to, so it was expected that these ambassadors would make their trips to the Black Tower much less frequent. That was not the same as saying there weren't those who had complained about Grady's absence from the Table on more than one occasion.

Any Asha'man could become an ambassador, so long as he had the right mind for politics. But to be a member of the Table was high honour, and Grady had been absent for more than a few meetings now. People will talk, and politics within Black Tower had become as prevalent as in the White.

"You should bloody take my place. The Table was never really my calling, anyway."

Androl stayed quiet again. Grady would never dare say this in front of other Asha'man. Light, but he would be berated by Dedicated if he said the same in front of them. Androl wasn't much for lecturing though, and Grady probably knew as much.

"You rose to the Table because Logain had much hope in you, Grady." Androl said that levelly.

"Blood and bloody ashes, Androl. He wanted you at the Table, anyone could tell that. If only you had accepted."

"But I didn't. You did."

Grady mumbled, then took a large sip of the ale. He understood where Androl was getting at.

"You know I know responsibility, Androl. Death is lighter than a feather …"

"… duty heavier than a mountain." Androl finished. Even Andorans had heard that phrase. Grady nodded. A gleeman had just pulled out his flute in the corner. The song he sang was a happy one, one exploring the grand victories of the Band of the Red Hand. The gleeman finished with a verse from the 'Dance with Jak o' the Shadows' before starting a new song. Applause rang in the common room. The Carheinin especially enjoyed the song, putting a few coins towards the gleeman's cause.

"So, what makes you come here, Androl?"

Androl coughed after a large swig.

"Pulled the short straw. Recruitment."

"Ah. Well, I am taking care of recruitment here, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Androl gave his fellow Asha'man a long look, "The Tamyrlin hasn't seen your face for some time now, mayhaps he forgot."

Grady cursed.

"Peace, Grady," Androl said swiftly, "I will talk to Logain. You need not worry so hard, your eyebrows are practically falling in your ale. I will talk to Logain. Just make sure not to miss the next Table meeting and you will be fine, man."

Grady raised his mug to Androl, but his frown remained. Now what could Androl do about that? Not much, he surmised. The man was making a home for himself here, and Androl, despite what he had said to Grady, had high respect for that. And yet, surely Grady saw the importance of the work he did? The Black Tower had just begun its journey of influence, and the initial reception was slow. The White Tower, even today, scoffed at Logain. Grady needed to be a pillar for all Asha'man. He had risen to the Table because of the work he had done here in the Two Rivers. Now it was his turn to lead, but the man balked.

Androl shook his head. Grady would come around to it, he was sure.

"I will talk to Logain." Androl said again, patting the man's back, just as he sensed Pevara climbing down the stairs. She would be here shortly.

Master al'Vere made his way around to them, carrying sweetpies and kaf that he had ordered. He set the tray down. Pevara joined them then, a serving boy drawing up a chair.

" Ah, and I was just craving kaf." She said as she sat down. The cup was still steaming, and Pevara seemed satisfied as she took a sip. When Androl had developed his taste for kaf, Pevara had too, uncannily at the same time. They still debated as to who had decided they liked it first. The bond they shared… it did strange things sometimes.

Androl had meaning to drink the kaf, even after his ale, but decided against, reaching for one of the sweetpies.

"Thank you, Master al'Vere," Grady said, as the innkeeper was leaving.

Androl felt shock from Pevara. He looked up to find Pevara staring at the receding back of the innkeeper.

_What is it? _Androl sent.

_I could be wrong, but I think that was the father of the Young Amyrlin who just served us sweetpies._

Bloody ashes! Well, heroes had to be birthed somewhere. Androl reached for another pie, uncovering a wolf carved on the wooden tray.

"Grady, I just realized, you are close to Lord Perrin Aybara, aren't you?"

Pevara looked up.

"Yeah, one could say that. I meet him at the court from time to time."

"You are in his council?" Pevara asked.

"I am the ambassador, aren't I? Besides, I knew Lord Goldeneyes from before. Light, we fought together before the Last Battle ever begun."

"Well, then, there you are!" Androl exclaimed, "You could get us an audience with him then!"

"I could. What for though? And don't say recruitment, pardon me, but that's flaming goat's droppings."

Pevara looked at Androl. Might as well, her eyes seemed to say. Sparing only a moment to think how he could tell Pevara's thoughts simply by looking at her eyes now, he turned to Grady.

"It's about Saldea, old friend." Androl hushed his voice. _Is it just me or the Carheinin listening in? _Pevara sent. He looked up to see the handsome Carheinin noble smile at him.

Grady got up.

"I know this place, serves delightful food. Come along."

Androl winced. He had been really looking forward to a meal from the best cook in all of Emond's field. A goat-kissing sheepherder's chance of that now.


	5. A Blacksmith's Hospitality

**A Blacksmith's Hospitality**

Grady's cloak kept whipping back from the wind, spraying his face full of rain. Androl didn't even have the luxury of a cloak; he pulled up his collar as high as it would go, grumbling to himself. Pevara was perhaps the least bothered by the rain – she knew a weave to make the rain not touch her face. Unfortunately, Androl had never been able to replicate that weave using saidin. A pity.

"How much further, Grady?"

"Just down the street."

They hurried along. Androl didn't know much about Emond's Field. It was a large town, and with all its many alleyways it would be easy to get lost. But Androl could tell they were in some kind of worker's district. _The town blacksmiths' guild. The entire street is full of forgers. Locksmiths that side, metal workers here. _Pevara sent absent-mindedly. _Curse this bloody rain. _Androl still had memories of the day they had rescued Logain. It had been raining like this then as well.

_Hmm. Is that why you hate rain? _Pevara sent.

_Could be. That night was positively horrid. _He felt her mentally shudder, if that were possible. Yeah, best not talk about it anymore.

"How long, Grady?"

"Man, you have not even been out for thirty flaming minutes!"

"Give your cloak to me and then we will see who bloody snaps at who!"

"Down this way," Grady muttered, taking an alley towards their left. An old building with a thatch roof lay secluded within the alley. The town had grown over many years, almost bursting the seams of being called a city, but this forgotten structure had stayed the same.

They entered the forge, clear to both Androl and Pevara that they were in a blacksmith's establishment. A huge man slammed his hammer on a misshapen slug of metal, glowing red from the heat of the furnace.

"How goes, Grady? This the Asha'man I heard about?" The man stood up, a bulky man. He regarded Androl with a set of golden eyes. A full bearded fellow, this could only be one person.

"Wish you hadn't gotten yourself so drenched, friends. Sadly, this place is too cramped for gateways." Lord Perrin opened his hands wide apologetically. "We have a few things to talk about -" Androl's stomach rumbled. "– ah, yes, but first comes food."

Behind Lord Goldeneyes, a servant in white brought a plate towards the guests, as they sat themselves opposite the furnace. Simple meat stew and some good bread to go with it. There was some cheese too. After all the traveling Androl had been subjected to, this felt like a feast. Pevara didn't immediately make for the stew as Androl did.

The servant reappeared with a plate full of a massive hunk of meat. Perrin took it with a word of thanks. Grady had declined the offer of food. "Wife would be mad if I didn't have dinner at home," he had said. Now he stood by, urging Androl to get on with what he had told him earlier.

It was Pevara who spoke.

"Lord Aybara, we come from the Black Tower, with the hopes of aiding you with our counsel and support. In relation to the Saldea situation."

Perrin regarded her coolly, chewing his meat in a slow fashion. His eyes found Grady, then went back to Pevara, then on his food as he cut another piece off.

_What do you make of him? _Pevara sent. Androl didn't know how to respond. The man certainly carried a kind of _gravity_, although he had expected nothing else from someone who had long been friends with the Dragon Reborn. He had heard the story of how a village boy, a blacksmith, had become the lord of Two Rivers, with enormous autonomy from Andor. Not only that, he had amassed a diverse army, was respected even by the Seanchan and, perhaps most importantly, had raised the Two Rivers to become a trade hub for Andor. He had heard other things as well, rumours regarding wolves, and both Androl and Pevara had dismissed those rumours as hearsay. It was hard to dismiss them now, when those eyes looked at him. He felt friendliness and generosity conveyed from those eyes. He also felt a raw sense of animalistic power radiating through them. This was not a man that he wanted to cross.

_I don't know, but I don't want to piss him off. _Androl sent back honestly.

"Grady wouldn't have brought you two to me if he didn't trust you. I don't know whether I'll accept your counsel, or your support. Frankly, it all depends."

"On what?" Androl asked.

"On what you know, Asha'man Androl and Pevara sedai."

Perrin licked his fingers, then looked patiently at Androl. Pevara and Androl exchanged glances before he began.

"Well, it is not a well-kept secret that you have called upon all your bannermen. Even as we speak, banners from Ghealdan and Mayene have joined camp with your Wolfguards at Taren Ferry. We strongly urge you not to march your army to Saldea. Not only will it violate the Dragon's Peace, that you yourself are a signatory of, but the result could be disastrous - civil war in Saldea, Andor at your throat, Light, even Murandy will assemble its troops north in anticipation. And god knows what the Aiel would do ... "

Pevara looked at Androl. _That was eloquent. _Even as a thought, her tone was dry.

"I have called upon my banners at Taren Ferry because we have several mining operations going on. The land is plagued by bandits and smugglers, and all I have done is try and flush them out. It is an ongoing process."

Lord Aybara seemed amused. Pevara mentally winced. _An obvious lie, but one that can cover his plans well. He put the army there to remind Theonelle of his presence. He never really planned to march them. Devious._

Androl understood. Theonelle. He hadn't heard the name till the day Logain came knocking at his door, waking him and Pevara up from their bed, and he wished he didn't know the name today. Theonelle was one of the high lords of Saldea, member of the Council of Lords, advisor to the Queen of Saldea, lady Faile. For all Androl knew, Lord Aybara's wife, Faile ni'Bashere t'Aybara, hadn't set foot on Saldean soil since her marriage, or at least near enough to be the same thing. That had been the beginning of the Saldean problem. Eleven years now from the Last Battle, the Council of Lords had ruled Saldea for all this time in the Queen's stead. The Saldeans had all but forgotten that they even had a ruler. Theonelle meant to remind them.

"My lord Aybara, Theonelle plans to succeed the throne." Pevara fixed the lord with a level gaze. "It will no doubt result in civil war. Half the Council is against him, the other is feigning at support, only to steal the throne for themselves should the chance present itself. But Theonelle, he takes to the streets. His speeches are grand, and they sway the people; he is a natural orator. If you continue to ignore him, he _will_ seize the throne."

"My lord," Pevara continued, "The Council of Lords all have their own counselors, almost all of them Aes Sedai. Only the lady Karina has an Asha'man advisor, one named Yommen. It is through him that we know of Theonelle's plans - Theonelle suggests the stopping of trade through Two Rivers entirely. Salt peppers are one thing, but even steel? Several economies will feel the repercussions, Lord Aybara. Maybe all the way to Tear. The fact that no other but lady Karina thought of informing lady Faile of this speaks volume."

Yes, it did speak volumes. All the other lords had moved against Faile, them with their White Tower counselors. The Aes Sedai had chosen their path, and they meant to either see Theonelle on the throne or keep lady Faile out of it entirely.

"It is the people who shall suffer." Androl said softly.

Perrin weighed the information. He put his fork down and motioned for the servant to take his plate.

"Theonelle," he said thoughtfully, "He always seemed like a man with plans. Seemed to me like a jolly fellow, despite his cunning. Hmm."

Androl and Pevara watched him consider with tension beading their brows together.

"What does the Black Tower stand to gain from this?" He said finally, lifting the work hammer kept on the table.

"We only wish stability in the land, Lord Aybara." Pevara said. Perhaps too quickly.

"An Aes Sedai speaks for the Black Tower. Interesting." The amusement was back on those golden eyes. Did he understand the gravity of the problem? Androl felt a rush of anger through Pevara, her face stoic, ever an Aes Sedai. And a tinge of guilt? Androl thought so.

The Black Tower needed to be recognized. If Theonelle succeeded the throne, it was very likely that the White Tower influence in Saldea will grow, and the Asha'man will slowly and gradually be moved out. The Black Tower had much to gain, if they could counsel The Queen of Saldea to reclaim her own throne. Influence and power in a Borderland country symbolized strength, and that was what Logain needed at this time.

"My Lord," Grady said, still standing in the shadows, "they do mean to aide. That is their purpose here."

"This is a confrontation between the two towers at its core. I do not mean to wedge myself and my wife into Aes Sedai and Ashaman politics."

"And inaction," Pevara said, "on your part would accomplish nothing. You will still find yourself between the White and the Black Tower, Lord Goldeneyes."

Okay, maybe not so much of an Aes Sedai. There was a visible bit of mockery in the way she called him that. Perrin laughed.

"On that, I shall concede. Very much in the middle of things." Perrin sighed, "Marriages can be tricky, at times."

"Most of the times." Androl echoed. Pevara eyed him before going back to Perrin.

"Regardless," Perrin said, his voice loud but calm, "I am not the one who has to make the decision. Blessedly, for once. It is my wife who shall decide the path of Saldea. And you are not the first to demand their right to council. I am not sure whether you are aware, but I am to meet two Aes Sedai on the morrow, discussing the same subject. You are welcome to join me at the court. You will have your say there."

Saying so, lord Perrin Aybara turned towards his workbench next to the furnace. The resounding sound of hammer meeting metal drowned even the sound of the rain, as Androl and Pevara made their way back to the Winespring Inn.


	6. Maradon

**Maradon**

Just before the Last battle eleven years ago, Maradon had been taken by the Shadow. Oh, history books liked to remember the event along the lines of "The Dragon Reborn gnashed his teeth and the Shadow lifted from Maradon" but the way Lady Karina Lamare saw it, letting the city burn, its people fleeing, their lord declared a darkfriend and the very palace razed to the ground, a smouldering pile of ashes, was no victory. Having a foreign commander protecting these walls was simply an added insult.

Perhaps Maradon hadn't been taken by the filthy trollocks, but the city had still burned. Despite all that had happened, Maradon had lived on. That was the true strength of the Saldean people. The ability to rebuild themselves stronger at the face of immense failure, the ability to hold their backs straight even when stripped to nothing. And they had done all of that without their Queen.

Lady Karina Lamare sipped at her cup of wine, looking at the enormous painting of a burning Maradon that she had had installed in her study the day she had been named one of the Council. Her pensive face remembered the strength of the Saldean people. They had needed no Queen then.

The rest of the Council did not want Faile back. Her right to the throne could not be contested, but her commitment to it? Surely even Karina herself had done so, time and again. And yet …

"It is my duty to support the Queen." She said that out loud. She wondered about the conviction in those words. Maybe a degree of it was true, but then again, maybe not.

The Asha'man at her desk looked up. He had silvery-grey hair but a young face that went with it. He had a forked beard in the style of the Kandori, but he kept his moustache shaved as if he were an Illianer. He was mystery personified, and the way he slowly went back to reviewing reports without asking after her statement, coolly, (as if she talked to herself all the time!), portrayed exactly how distant he liked to keep himself. Asha'man Yommen only talked when necessary, but when he did, people listened. Probably why the Black Tower had made him the ambassador to Saldea, and probably why Karina had kept him as her personal advisor. That, and the fact that she needed Gateways. Every lord in the council needed that ability direly, what with the fact that getting the Queen's signature required crossing the nation's borders, and then some.

The other lords had grown tired of her. Faile ni'Bashere t'Aybara. Karina took another deep sip from her cup.

"Are you wondering why you support the Queen so much?"

Yommen's unexpected question from behind her nearly made her jump. He spoke too softly and too unemotionally for Karina's liking. If a man couldn't bellow once a while, what good was he? She could have used some arguing right about now.

"My family has been loyal to the Basheres for generations. And they to us." Karina tried to maintain her voice to the same soft, unemotional standard. She thought it was passable.

"No need to snap." He said in a very calm manner, proceeding to scribble some notes on the reports, no doubt future notations on how to respond to what, for Karina's benefit.

_Insufferable pigeon brained black coat! _She had _not _snapped! She surely felt like snapping now – snapping one of those cursed Seanchan collars around his neck and strangling him with it.

"I understand loyalty. Familial bonds are important" Yommen had put down his pen, resting it perfectly so that it was parallel to the paper, to look her in the eye " – it is what makes one honourable. It is an indication that you are willing to take responsibilities and won't shirk away from your duties. But your support to the Queen seems unquestionable; you went so far as to request me to talk to the Tamyrlin Logain to convince the Queen to come back. Seems to me it is more than simple loyalty."

Karina maintained her careful scrutiny of the painting. Yommen, seeing that she wasn't going to answer his implied question, went back to his reports. He had only just put an alphabet on one of the papers when Karina turned back to look at him.

"Are you loyal to the Black Tower?" she asked.

Yommen adjusted himself in his seat, leaning back to a more comfortable position. His pen had found its way back, parallel to sheet of paper, and his writing hand now stroked his white beard.

"Yes," he said after some thought, "Yes, I do think I am, at that."

"Would you say it is 'unquestionable' loyalty?"

"hmm," he pondered, "loyalty, if not questioned, becomes too rigid. A dangerous thing. A man needs to know why he is loyal. What he is loyal to. Questions, doubts, these are ways of testing your loyalty, knowing it is true. No, I would not say my loyalty is 'unquestionable', as you put it."

Karina glared at him. "It is not I who put it like that, but you. I do not have unquestionable loyalty to Faile. When you say it seems more than simple loyalty, you're wrong. It is exactly that. Just simple loyalty."

"To a queen who doesn't serve her nation?"

Karina turned back to the painting of the burning city. She took a calculated sip of her wine, then ran a hand through her raven black curls.

"No. To the people."

She set her empty cup smartly on the table and walked out.

Maradon had changed vastly since Tarmon'gaidin. Karina supposed every nation had changed vastly, and most of them for the better. From the many balconies in her rooms in the Palace, Karina could see the distant mountains, white and misty, standing tall to welcome a glorious sunrise, washing the snow caps in gold. The fields surrounding the city were lush and full, all the way to the pass that led to the Blight. Probably lush and green all the way to Shayol Ghul. Karina always felt a wave of amazement, thinking about how beautiful the Blight had become. She wondered whether the rulers of the world should have a sit down and discuss about renaming the territory.

Of course, you could always encounter trollocks, even some myrdraals. The victory at the Last Battle hadn't finished the cursed beasts off, and they had a knack for breeding, but fortunately they kept to the far reaches of the Blight. With a sigh, Karina remembered courting the king and queen of Malkier a few years back. The queen had struck her as an oddity; there was a time between idle chatter when queen Nyanaeve had wondered whether Malkier could start a so-called tourist venture into the Blights. She had sounded serious too – charging people money so that they could visit the Blight! The idea had baffled Karina and she had said, jokingly, that they should let gleemen and performers join the first entourage. Karina remembered with dread the thoughtful expression that the queen had adopted then. Yes, an oddity indeed. She wouldn't be surprised if the Malkieri had set up inns at Shayol Ghul itself by now.

Karina stopped at her tracks when she realised that she had been walking over the palace walls. A couple of soldiers looked at her, saluted, and walked past. It was an odd habit Karina had adopted; ever since Yommen had taken to invading her study, she had taken to long walks along the palace walls. _That man is the most irritating man I have ever met. _He had the ability to annoy her so much that even in her thoughts she sometimes strained to describe exactly _how much _he annoyed her_; there just weren't enough words._

She continued her walk, a cool sun behind her, until she found a stairway to take her down. It was at the entrance of the stairway that she heard a distant voice.

Karina looked beyond the wall to find a large gathering of people at the square right outside the palace. A man with multiple rings in his left hand stood on the stage.

Karina hissed as she rushed down and outside the palace gates, walking as fast as she could while keeping herself presentable towards the square. Theonelle stood on the platform. A large round instrument was close to his mouth. The instrument was called an amplifier, an invention from the Great School in Carhein. Theonelle must have had to pay a lot to get one of these amplifiers – what it did was simple; it made your voice echo throughout the square as if the one power itself was being used to do so.

"...the fields to the north, as well as the east. Farmers face problems with the increase in rain, crops wilt and livestock die of diseases. My scholars have studied the land and they predict an additional increase of a handspan in the floods to the north; the summer melt would make it even worse. These are troubled times for our farmers – simple folk who work hard everyday to keep us fed. Two days ago they sought an audience with the Queen. Travelled all the way from the far north, leaving their wives and sons behind to tend the destroyed fields, to salvage what could be salvaged. Two days ago they entered the palace. Two days ago they begged the queens hand of help."

Theonelle made a show of meeting every man's eye. A buzz grew among the crowd.

"Where was the queen then? Is she here today? Is she here to listen to problems of the common folk? I ask you, men and women of Saldea, where is your Saldean Queen?"

The murmurs grew stronger. Men and women alike had grim faces. This was bad.

"The queen is in the south. She caters to her husband's southern lords, and to her husband's southern lands. She has forgotten her vows, she has forgotten her duty, she has forgotten this land. Our queen has forgotten Saldea."

There was applause now. Open applause! Theonelle was speaking high betrayal openly in the streets, and there was applause! Karina's hands formed into a fist. She had had it – she was going to punch Theonelle in the face, and that was that. Karina made to move towards the podium, but a hand rested on her arm.

She turned to look at Yommen, who pointedly looked at Theonelle. Apparently the lord had noticed the black coat, and spotted Karina too, for he smiled at her. Karina spat on the ground.

"I am a loyal Saldean" Theonelle continued, "and my loyalties lie to the land and it's people, not some queen who refuses to show her face! I simply wish our queen to come back, share my enthusiasm for the Saldean people, help me in ruling this land, justly and valiantly. But when my voice cannot be heard by the queen, what else can I do but appeal to her people? Sometimes I wonder... I wonder how can a rightful queen ignore her people so? I wonder what right to the throne does she even have."

Karina's face had become red. Despite Yommen's hand on her arm, she bristled.

"How dare you Theonelle!"

Her scream echoed in the square, louder than the amplifier had raised Theonelle's voice.

"How dare you question the right to the queen's throne! This is treason!"

"Treason, my lady? If it is treason to voice the sound of the people, then I would gladly accept the hangman's noose." Theonelle was positively smug. "I question the right of her throne on very just grounds, lady Karina, very just grounds indeed."

"And what grounds might that be?" Karina's ears were positively scarlet.

But Theonelle turned to the crowd.

"Much of our dear queen's past is shrouded in mystery. Not many know of this, but as a young girl, Zarine Bashere ran away from home. But lady Karina, you know of that. You two were childhood friends if I recall correctly."

Karina neither denied it, nor agreed. She simple stood there next to Yommen, hands crossed.

"Are you aware of what she did afterwards?"

"Married Perrin Aybara, Lord of the Two Rivers, friend to the Dragon Reborn, protector of wolves, and might I add, twice the man you are!"

Yommen's grip around her arm tightened. "You need to stop talking now." he urged into her ear.

Theonelle laughed. "Yes, he might be all that, but that's not relevant to what I am saying." He turned to the people again. "you see, friends, Lady Zarine Bashere, shortly before marrying the Lord Aybara, found herself in Illian. She gathered there to become a Hunter of the Horn."

Karina's eyes widened. The people hadn't understood what had just been said.

"Lies!" Karina screamed. The murmering among the people grew louder.

"She renounced all her titles to be a Hunter of the Horn!" Theonelle raised his voice, making sure everyone had heard. "She renounced all her titles even before she became queen! She forsake all her ties! She is no rightful queen of Saldea!"

Pin-drop silence fell on the square. Karina felt weak in her knees, so much so that Yommen had to support her weight as they walked away towards the palace, even as the shouting and clamoring of the people began.


	7. A Father's Wish

**A Father's Wish**

The sun was just rising when Pevara woke up. Androl was still asleep; Pevara made sure not to wake him up. The man hadn't been sleeping well and he had a knack of overworking himself at times. Last night had been long – discussions about the meeting ahead had left both of them feeling like gutted fish. Pevara dressed herself slowly, buttoning up her blouse. Androl moved in his sleep. Well, he wouldn't be asleep for long. When one of them woke up, the other inadvertently woke up too – the noise in the other's head was hard to ignore. She probed his head a bit and sent happy peaceful thoughts. Maybe that would let him sleep for longer.

Pevara put on her robe, then moved to open the door. Once downstairs, she asked a servant for today's paper. Such a wonderful thing! A man in Lord Perrin's service, one named Balwer, had this ingenious idea of printing all incidents of the day in a paper and distributing it to people for a very small amount of money. He called it news. He opened a press in Two Rivers, and the idea caught on throughout Andor, even Carhein. Honestly, it could have spread all the way to Seanchan by now, Pevara thought. Today's news covered things like the Queen of Andor's new decree for trade with the Seanchan – they were being allowed to transport goods through raken now. There were incidents of violence against Tinkers in Illian, sad story that. There was even a small circus advertising its next show in Baerlon, Lucan Vala was the name, was it? Of course, the news was only of things that had already occurred but it still was incredulous. No going to dingy inns to learn rumours, now it got delivered to you at your home.

Turning a page as a servant brought her the kaf she had ordered, she looked at a particular article titled "Lord Aybara to meet with White Tower advisors". A lot of speculation regarding what the talks could be about filled the page. No mention of Saldea or the Black Tower, thank the light. Pevara sighed. News was a wonderful thing, but it also meant every man who had an Andoran penny would now have an opinion of things well beyond his head. She could almost see the dark times ahead. She folded the paper and plopped it on the table.

She was just about to break a piece of lightly burnt toast (just the way she had ordered it) when another article caught her attention.

"Lord Dylan Aybara returns home after a prolonged hunting expedition from the Braem woods" There was a hand-drawn picture of a young boy with black curls. Dylan Aybara was the eldest of the Lord's sons. From what Pevara had heard, he seemed like a nice boy, with a noble heart. At least the entirety of the Two Rivers liked fawning over him – she had yet to meet a man who would say ill of the boy. She proceeded to read the article.

"Ah yes, the boy has finally returned." Master al'Vere stood over her table, scrutinizing the paper. "He had been out hunting with Tam and his party all week. Apparently the boy's manservant sprained his ankle, and he delayed return on his account. Despite the fact that he got necessary healing then and there – Dylan insisted he rest up. Tam nearly threw a fit, nobody wants to upset Lady Faile after all. Sweet kid, Dylan."

Pevara looked at the father of the Young Amyrlin. Such a simple man. He reminded her of her own father.

"By Tam, you mean Tam al'Thor, I presume." Pevara said, motioning the man to join her. Master al'Vere sat with the sigh of an old man with joint ache. Pevara knew, for Androl sat in much the same way.

"Ah yes, Tam al'Thor indeed, Pevara sedai."

"It's hard to believe the Dragon Reborn's father chooses to stay on as a simple farmer."

Master al'Vere chuckled. "Simple farmer, Pevara sedai? He owns almost all the farms in the Two Rivers, owns two coaches as well, that he does. Trades his crops all the way to Mayene, he does."

"It's likewise hard to believe the Amyrlin's father chooses to stay on as an innkeeper."

Master al'Vere looked at her with sad eyes. He placed his hands together, his lips tightening. Pevara hadn't meant to say this, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Well, Pevara sedai, I ... I never rode for the Last Battle. I stayed here in Emond's Field and survived the best I could. So I never could see Egwene again. The last time I saw her, she was still a little girl, racing off after the man she was betrothed to."

Pevara opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped herself.

"I hear Egwene had married a young man. Gawyn Trakand, yes?"

Pevara nodded.

"I wish I could have met the boy. And I wish they could have been alive and well, I wish I could have had three little grandchildren at my knee now."

His eyes twinkled with unshed tears. Pevara held his hand.

"She is the greatest Amyrlin the world has ever known. She won us the Last Battle, Master al'Vere."

"And here I was thinking it was Tam's son who had gone and done that." He chuckled again, then patted Pevara's hand. "Moiraine sedai visited me after all was said and done. I said a lot of harsh things to her that day. Is there something I can ask of you, Pevara sedai?"

Pevara looked at him and nodded again.

"If you see Moiraine sedai again, please, tell her that Bran al'Vere is sorry for the things he said."

He got off the chair after that and proceeded to chat with another group breaking their fast.

Androl made his way moments later, fully dressed in his black coat, with the dragon and sword pins on each collar. He looked rather handsome, Pevara thought.

_I know, _was his smug reply. He sat down beside her and made eye contact. _What happened? You seem sad._

_Nothing, I just … was chatting with Master al'Vere._

Androl gave her a long look, then nodded. He would understand. No, he understood. Pevara was surprised by how often she thought of Egwene al'Vere. Leaving the White Tower hadn't hurt as much as thinking about the Young Amyrlin did. She didn't understand why. Androl, sitting next to her, had picked up her kaf to take a healthy sip. Sometimes it felt like he understood her better than she understood herself. Pevara let out a long sigh.

Androl was just about to ask after her, but just then a man in a black coat entered. Jur Grady looked just like Pevara felt – a lack of sleep and worry lined his eyes.

"We should head to the manor right now, Androl."

Androl didn't bother asking him why, nor did Pevara. Both got up right away as Grady let them out.


	8. Son of the Wolf

**Son of the Wolf**

"Light it's a mess." Grady started as they walked hurriedly. Emond's Field as usual had a large crowd, even this early in the morning. The markets would soon be packed to the brim; pushing past with any considerable speed would be impossible. Pevara wished they could just use a gateway, but use of gateways in any major city was prohibited by law – gateways were undeniably dangerous after all. The patrolmen could all identify signs of a gateway without much problem (unnatural cut of grass, dirt cut through, and the like), and then the nearest channeller would be summoned. He or she would trace the gateway's residue and before you knew it, the user of the gateway would be paying a hefty fine – taking into consideration that he or she hadn't caused any damage to property or life. To enter a city, one had to form a gateway from at least a league away and then ride in. _Why even rediscover the talent of gateways if only to prohibit it from the city? _It left Pevara baffled. Androl, surprisingly, didn't mind the law too much. Of course, the Lord's manor would have its own travelling grounds, and while Grady could probably use them, Androl and Pevara would have to enter through the main gates, announcing themselves.

"What's a mess, Grady?" Androl asked.

"Uh, well, Asha'man Yommen arrived earlier, Androl. From Saldea."

"And?" Pevara asked pointedly.

"Well, nasty news. Did any of you know Lady Faile was a Hunter of the Horn, because Theonelle just announced so to everyone in Saldea."

Pevara instantly felt a headache coming on. _What, _Androl sent. _What does that mean?_

_It means Saldea is lost. Theonelle just won the crown. _Light, what a mess, indeed! How had none of them known about this? And what's worse how had Theonelle of all people been able to find this out.

"Grady?" Pevara asked, increasing her pace. "Grady, why do we need to rush to the manor?"

"Well, the Aes Sedai, they decided to convene the meeting early."

Pevara hissed. Androl mumbled something about Aes Sedai, but quickened his pace as well.

"Grady," Pevara asked again, something clicking in her head. "When did the Aes Sedai arrive in Emond's Field?"

"They have been here for four days now, Pevara sedai."

Pevara cursed. Androl kept his mouth and his thoughts shut. A wise move, he knew it would be him who would get the knife of a tongue of hers if he said anything. Could four days have been enough to dig out this secret about Lady Faile? They were Aes Sedai, she knew better than most what her sisters were capable of. Still, she wondered. Had they sent this information to Theonelle, after pretending to provide counsel for Aybara? Seemed two-faced, even for Aes Sedai. It could have been Moiraine, Pevara thought as she muddled over it longer. She had been with the three boys the longest, at their earliest. She would have possibly known about Faile. But Moiraine? Pevara doubted it. She was simply too absorbed with the world to dwell into White Tower politics. She was more interested in her own little adventures. No, Pevara surmised, it couldn't be Moiraine. She would be halfway into Shara, or in Tremalking, or a thousand leagues beyond Shayol Ghul at the moment.

" – and Kismael sedai."

Pevara came out of her reverie as soon as she heard the name. Androl winced.

"Kismael is here?" He asked. Grady looked at the two of them. Both had stopped in their tracks.

"Yeah, Tanaya sedai and Kismael sedai are the advisors sent by the White Tower. Why, you know them?"

"Not Tanaya, but Kismael I know too well. She is the one who replaced me as the Red Sitter in the White Tower. Bah, it doesn't matter, Androl, keep walking."

Androl again chose not to say anything. He felt the hurt in Pevara. How to compensate hundred years of dedication stripped away from her? Androl did his best to make her happy, and he believed there were times when she truly was. But some cuts could never heal – for Pevara, the murder of her family by darkfriends was one such. And the choice of siding with Elaida was the other. She regretted it, every day, and Androl knew it. She had always wanted to serve a greater purpose, and by Light, she deserved it. She wished she was standing beside the Amyrlin Seat when Egwene destroyed the Sharan forces and fixed part of the Pattern itself. But wishing couldn't get anything back; she had made her choice then and she had to suffer through it. Like all the sisters who had been sent to the Black Tower by Elaida, she too had fallen from grace. Once a sitter of the White Tower, she had faced the consequences – removed from the Hall, she had found her peace now in the Black Tower.

Androl liked to ask her, in the loneliest of nights, when the candle was close to being out, what was home to her now. She had always answered, the Black Tower. But Androl knew that was a lie. When he asked her what was her home now, her mind showed him an image of himself.

It pained Androl too. Pained him, and filled him with the strangest sort of bliss. She had left all her ties with the White Tower to be with him. He loved her for that.

_There is nothing for me in the White Tower, Androl. Focus on the task at hand. _Androl nodded to her. Of course she could hear what went on in his head. Most of the times their bond annoyed Androl, but this time, he was glad.

The manor loomed in front of them. A massive wolfhead banner floated above in the sky. The gates were elegant and heavy, with ornate metalwork depicting several wolves running with falcons in the sky. The guards that greeted them wore silver and grey uniforms, with their helms designed in the form of wolves. A fur cloak covered their armour. When they saw Grady, they saluted and opened the gates.

Inside, the manor was much bigger than it had looked from the outside. The gardens were strangely stark – no flowers or trees, just a clean expanse of grass. Massive stone pillars lined the outside of the estate, and the high ceiling kept most things under the shadow. All in all, it wasn't the most spectacular Lord's estate that Pevara had seen in her expansive lifetime, but it looked as if it were built for purpose, and not for ceremony.

A boy suddenly appeared to their view, walking around the manor with a horse in tow. He waved at Grady, who smiled broadly at the boy. Pevara realised this was the same boy she had seen in the paper earlier today.

_That's the lordling Dylan Aybara, Androl._

_Seems like a nice kid. Maybe what we heard was true. _Androl shrugged.

_Most lordlings are spoilt rotten. _Pevara had her biases. Androl shrugged again.

"Guardian Grady! It is good to see you again, I had hoped I would see you yesterday."

The boy was spirited. The smile was quite contagious, and those pale eyes were full of playfulness. Pevara had an urge to ruffle the boy's hair.

"I had a busy day, Master Dylan." Grady said with a smile. "Ah, meet my fellow friends from the Black Tower. That is Asha'man Androl and Pevara sedai."

The young boy bowed respectfully to them. Pevara understood why the town loved him so.

"Hey, Guardian Androl, is it possible for you to test me?" Androl winced with shock and Pevara visibly paled. "Its only that I have asked Grady a hundred times to test me, but he refuses to. Its possible that I could channel, is it not? I could be one of the Guardians like you Uncle Grady!"

Androl pulled at his collar, while Grady chuckled.

"I don't think your mother would like that, Dylan. And you are just ten, there is still a lot of time still. You have to be fourteen before you can be tested."

"But Uncle Grady – "

But Grady shook his head and the boy fell crestfallen. Pevara's heart almost broke looking at the sad face of the child. She did ruffle his hair then, and smiled to him.

"Wait till you're fourteen, Master Dylan." Pevara said, "and I will make sure Androl here tests you, if your Uncle Grady doesn't."

"Is that a promise, Pevara sedai?" The boy said with a twinkle in his eye.

"An Aes Sedai's promise." She replied mischieviously.

"Oi!" An Aiel walked hurriedly after Dylan. The boy made an attempt to hide behind Pevara's skirt, but the Aiel was too quick. He caught the boy's ear.

"Running off, are you, boy? Off riding into the town?" The Aiel man admonished him sternly.

"No Uncle Gaul, I was just – " But the boy was cut off.

"You cannot skip on training, boy, you want to be shown off by the Andoran prince again? I hear he gave you a sound thrashing. I train and train you, and you lose a sprawl against a wetlander prince. I swear you are like a sorda – always making me run after you like this."

"I wasn't running off Uncle Gaul, I was simply – "

"No excuses. Or we will have Grady here send you to your Aunt in Malkier. You would like taking lessons from Auntie Nyanaeve, wouldn't you, child?"

The boy paled. He apologetically said his goodbyes to Grady, Pevara and Androl and followed Gaul back inside the manor. Pevara stood astonished – whether at the Aiel tutor, or the fact that he had just mentioned the queen of Malkier so offhandedly, she did not know.

Androl still had a smile as they continued inside. Grady led them through gray halls and stone floors, then stopped infront of the great door of the audience chamber.

"Now look, Androl, the meeting is going to start in a few minutes. I will go ahead, talk some things out with the Lord and Lady. Yommen is already waiting and so are the Aes Sedai. Go on ahead."

Grady walked off towards a corridor in the right.

Androl met Pevara's eye.

"Shall we?"


	9. A Day in Court

**A Day in Court**

The great hall was dubbed the Wolf Hall – quite unimaginative of the Two Rivers folk, but it made sense. The hall was quite large, the ceilings going all the way beyond the reach of the light that the two lanterns cast. The room needed the two lanterns, even in the day. Two ornate stone engraved seats stood at a raised elevation, beside them statues of two wolves, beneath them a grand table stretched all the way to the door through which Pevara and Androl entered. The table was engraved as well – a quick look showed that the engraved wood depicted the Last Battle.

They were not alone, as Grady had said. Yommen sat at one side of the table, accompanied by a pretty woman – she had quite the small built, and her breasts were small too. Yommen was sitting quite peacefully, as if he had no care in the world, whereas the woman beside him, who could only be Lady Karina, sat as if her belly ached. Androl and Pevara both knew Yommen quite well. So when Yommen tapped his finger on the table and then caught himself, they knew exactly how worried the man was as well.

Opposite to Yommen and Karina sat two women. One wore a gray shawl, with slight gray in her hair. She seemed absentminded, busying herself with a stray thread on her shawl. The other wore a red shawl, although she wore the shawl in a manner that hardly covered her low cut blouse. Her hair was straight, and she had a mature beauty about her. Both had the ageless faces of Aes Sedai.

Kismael, the woman in the red shawl, looked at Pevara, and smiled.

_Let's just get through with this. _Androl sent to Pevara. She kept her expressions calm, her head straight and her back rigid as she sat next to Karina. Kismael continued her smile as she sat, then turned to her neighbour to whisper something in her ear. Tanaya simply blinked. She almost seemed like she would doze off any minute.

_We need to push Lady Faile into making a move for the throne. _Androl sent, _the best play here would be to curry favour through the merchant guild._

_Carhein, _Pevara replied.

_Yes, that's the ploy. And it would work, Pevara, the Saldean merchants will trade their ice peppers and fur for Sharan silk, and goods through the Waste. Carhein lords stand to make a lot of money, and if we offer gateways…_

But Androl's thought trailed off from Pevara's mind as the door beside the two seats opened and Lord Perrin and Lady Faile entered, Grady trailing behind them, and surprisingly, Seonid Traighan. Pevara had known of the short Carheinin Aes Sedai being a member of Perrin's counsel, but her sheer lack of presence since she and Androl had arrived in Emond's Field had led Pevara to believe she wasn't in town. Grady made his way towards their side of the table and sat next to Androl. Seonid sat next to Kismael.

_Something is off. _Pevara sent.

_I had the same feeling. Could it be? _Androl wondered. Yes, it very well could. It seemed to Pevara that Perrin had sent Grady to them and Seonid to the Aes Sedai. By all accounts, Grady and Seonid were both loyal to Perrin, so he must have been using them to gain information. _No simple blacksmith that one. _Pevara sent, eyeing the man who sat at the larger seat.

Lady Faile sat next to him quite gracefully. Her prominent nose remained held high, and a distinct scar lined her right cheek, going all the way up to her hair, cutting across the right eye. A relic of the Last Battle, no doubt. As for Lord Perrin, Pevara could only guess at the number of scars that man might have.

"Let's begin, Asha'man and Aes Sedai. We hold this meeting in the light of recent events. Theonelle, that cursed fool, is on the brink of starting a civil war in Saldea. Honestly, I couldn't care less, but my wife is the Queen and as long as I am in some position to prevent war, I am going to do so."

_Brash, as always. _Pevara had that distasteful look on her face again.

"My Lord, with Theonelle's proclamation, there is but a very few courses of action left." It was Tanaya who spoke. No boredom in her now, her face held rapt attention.

"And what may they be?" Lady Faile asked. Come to think of it, she didn't seem all that interested in this meeting at all. Pevara's eyes narrowed. That woman, what was she getting at?

"One, Lady Faile, you could deny his claims. Have him punished for treason, and the other lords will follow suit." Tanaya looked around as she said that.

"That would be foolish, my Lady," Androl began. "Theonelle is sure to act as soon as possible. He anticipates such decree against him – he is amassing men to him as we speak. If you proclaim him to be a liar, he would do the same to you, and with the people siding with him as it is -"

"Two," Tanaya said loudly over Androl. "You could rally all your houses to you, hold a session with the Council of Lords, the merchant guild as well, and offer lands in the Two Rivers to them. A bribe, yes, but a calculated one. All the lords would side with your cause immediately; they don't want to see Theonelle on the throne any more than you do."

"Offer Two Rivers land to foreign lords! Preposterous!" Grady exclaimed.

Lord Aybara considered this for a moment, hand on his chin. Pevara noticed Faile resting her hand on his momentarily.

"No, I do not think Saldeans could be bribed with Two Rivers soil." Lord Goldeneyes said softly.

"Anyone can be bribed, for the right price." Tanaya smiled.

"And the price of fourteen Saldean lords is unfortunately not something we can afford." Lady Faile responded sweetly. Karina beside Pevara was looking thoughtful. She wondered whether the Saldean lady was thinking about the worth of Two Rivers land. Yommen remained silent.

"Might I suggest something, my Lord? My Lady?" Androl began.

"Please do, Asha'man Androl." Lady Faile said.

"Our Black Tower network is far and wide." Kismael sniffed softly at Androl's words. Androl ignored her. "We propose currying favour with the Merchant Guilds first. They hold a lot of sway over the people, and having them on your side could possibly lead to Theonelle losing popularity of the people."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Faile asked.

"With the one thing the merchants care about. Trade." Pevara answered.

"We Asha'man have certain influence in Carhein, and there are many lords who would be open to help trade ice peppers, fur and steel across the Waste. We could offer gateways for this service." Androl spoke the last statement softly.

"And in return?" the queen of Saldea asked.

"A permanent seat of council to the queen for the Black Tower."

Lord Perrin looked thoughtful again, but for the most part he stayed out of it. It was Faile who had to decide.

"It could work. The merchant guild would go for it, I suppose." Karina said. Faile nodded to her. She stood up from her seat, one hand resting on the head of the statue of the wolf.

"I do not think I could make this decision here and now. Instead, I have an invitation for all of you."

All of them looked confused.

"In three days my husband and I are going to celebrate our shanna'har. Thirteen years together is a long time, and this year round we were meaning to celebrate it in the more traditional fashion."

A long pause held in the Wolf Hall.

"Perrin and I will be celebrating our thirteenth shanna'har in Saldea. You are all cordially invited. In the meantime, I will think about what we have discussed today."

Saying so, Lord and Lady Aybara got up.

But it wasn't their abrupt leave that worried Pevara. It was the fact that Kismael had neither uttered a single word during the meeting, nor had she stopped smiling.


	10. What the pups are up to

**What the pups are up to**

It was well into noon, the sun blazing on top of little Dylan's head, when the boy was found again, taking his horse out the stables. He was treading softly, and owing his years of training from Gaul, Dylan could be quite stealthy when he wanted to. Conler Aybara was only eight, but he had a sharp hearing and when leaves crackled outside the little boy instinctively knew it was his elder brother, out taking his horse for a ride again. Conler had a spiky head of hair, which the many manservants they had in the manor had been completely baffled with, and his eyes were a soft gray. Those gray eyes presently followed Dylan as he crept out towards the gates.

"Brother," Conler said softly, putting his book down and getting off the porch. The Adventures of Jain Farstrider was a good read, and Conler sighed as he kept it down.

Dylan nearly jumped, hearing his name called out from the shadows. Conler made his appearance.

"Con, you nearly gave me a stroke. What are you doing?" Dylan greeted his younger brother with a smile.

"Reading." Conler said. He wasn't much for words. In many ways, Conler took too much after his father – despite the prominent nose.

"Well, I will be back in half hour. Keep mother busy, will you?"

"As you say, Dy."

Dylan grabbed his brother in an arm lock, knuckled his head, making his already messy hair messier, then mounting his horse, rode off.

Conler grimaced as he heard his brother laugh.

"That boy needs to learn restraint." Uncle Gaul was standing in the corner, scratching his ear. "I see I didn't surprise you, Conler Aybara. Hearing is as sharp as ever."

Conler didn't respond as he walked back towards the training grounds. Gaul simply fell in step.

"Dylan has much to learn. So do you, Conler Aybara."

Conler was young, but he understood the dyanamics that existed in their home. Gaul was responsible for training both the Aybara brothers, but while Gaul felt close enough to Dylan to only use his first name, he never did so with Con. Perhaps it was the special classes that he had to take with Elyas that Dylan did not. Con didn't understand why that was so, but from as long as he could remember, father and mother had made it so that Dylan and him were treated different. While outwardly they would treat them the same, Conler felt how he was just seen differently from everyone in the household.

He remembered a time when the boys were much younger. Dylan and Conler would play under Chiad's watchful eyes. One day Gaul's wife, Aunt Chiad, had found Conler biting Dylan. Con had only been playing, but Dylan had gotten hurt and Con had been taken to mother and father. He didn't think Dylan even remembered that day, or if he did, he didn't care, but ever since that day, everyone had treated him different. That was when the special classes with Elyas and his father had started.

"What does the child do, running off with his horse all the time?" Gaul asked as they took the path leading to the woods behind the manor. The training grounds was minutes walk from there.

"You should have stopped him if you wanted to know, Uncle Gaul." Conler replied.

"Not every step a boy takes needs to be watched over." He said simply.

Conler would never speak of his brother's secrets to anyone, not even Uncle Gaul. Dylan was the only one who treated him like everyone else, with a smile and knuckles ruffling his head. That had made Con extremely protective of his brother, and he knew Dylan would do anything for him.

They reached the massive clearing covered by the trees. Many of the Wolfguard practiced their sword forms. Gramps al'Thor was overseeing the training of the men. He was a strict one, so Con didn't disturb the men with chatter and continued on to his designated corner away from the group. Gaul handed him a small spear and pointed to the dummy.

Conler sighed and went through his forms. Building up a little sweat, he looked to Gaul.

"Maybe I should practice with a hammer." Conler said, grimacing. He attacked the dummy with his spear again. The spear caught between the wooden poles. Conler tried twisting it free, but the spear didn't budge, and he was sent sprawling on the ground.

"Focus, child." Gaul said strictly.

"Father uses a hammer." Conler complained, getting up.

Gaul chuckled. "It will be many years before you can even lift that thing, child. You struggle with a spear as it is."

"Maybe it is because of the spear that I am struggling."

Gaul hit his calves with the butt of his spear in a moment of blurring speed. Conler was on the ground again.

"It is not the spear that is at fault, but you, Conler Aybara. Focus."

Conler growled, got up, and picked up his short spear again.

Time went past and Conler kept at it with his spear. From time to time, Gaul would order him to speed up, and when Conler slacked, he would recieve the butt of Gaul's spear again. Again, Con would growl and get back up. Spear, dummy, spear again.

So absorbed was he, that he didn't notice his mother standing a little way ahead from them. She was in talks with Seonid sedai, when suddenly she aproached Con. The boy was still unaware, his attacks growing stronger by the minute, fiercer, wilder.

"Stop!" Gaul commanded.

Conler kept at it, but then something clicked, and he stopped. His mother was standing next to him now, and she reached out with her arms and held his head in them. Faile looked deeply into the boy's eyes.

"It's happening more frequently nowadays, Faile Aybara." Gaul said, concerned. Seonid next to him made no comment. But Faile looked at him and smiled her motherly smile.

"You have your father's eyes, Con." Faile winked at him.

"The color will turn back to normal. Let him rest a bit." Seonid expressed.

Faile nodded. She looked at Con with a smile. "Go off with Seonid sedai, Con. You have history lessons with her, yes?"

"Yes, mother." Con said, his breathing heavy.

"You better have completed last lesson's assignment. You know all the kingdoms and their royal families?"

"Yes, Seonid sedai," Conler lied, biting his lip, knowing full well he had spent all of last evening reading 'The adventures of Jain Farstrider'. Seonid gave him a long look, then nodded.

Faile watched her son walking away with Seonid towards the manor.

"Perrin Aybara is against this." Gaul said when the boy had left.

"Bah, he can fight me if he wants. Our son will not run away from this. And what is the boy supposed to do? Not learn how to fight?" Lady Faile shook her head. "No, Gaul, this is the best way."

"If you say so, Faile Aybara. I would never suggest the boy not to learn how to fight. But at the same time, I worry we might be pushing him towards the path of the wolves." Gaul said somberly. He picked up the spears fallen on the ground and put them on the rack.

"Your words, or Chiad's?" Faile asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Does it matter? My wife loves the boys as if they were her own. She only worries after them. Conler Aybara is still very young."

"You sound like Perrin. The wolf is a choice – my husband says so and Elyas agrees. Do you see Con choosing the wolf over us?" Faile asked sternly.

"It is not an easy choice, Faile Aybara. If it were, Perrin wouldn't have faced the hardships he had had to face." Gaul met her eyes as he said this.

"Regardless, Gaul, I do not see how we can stop him. Perrin says the wolves have a name for him – Softpaw. I do not wish Con to become Softpaw anymore than you, but short of forbidding him to fight, I do not know what to do. Perrin has asked the wolves around Two Rivers not to communicate with him, but Elyas says it is only a matter of time before Con seeks them out himself. All we can do is prepare him."

Gaul nodded. Faile didn't know what to say to him – they both cared very much about the boy. Gaul simply took a lot of Perrin's stands about these things. Gaul picked up his horse bow and moved towards the manor. Faile fell in step. The practicing guards saluted her as they walked across.

"What of Dylan? Where is he?" She asked.

"Off to Watch Hill." Gaul replied. Faile could only sigh.

"He is meeting that farmer's girl again? What's her name?"

"Eowyn Lhandy." Gaul replied nonchalantly, lugging the shoulder bag he carried to his other shoulder.

"Isn't ten a bit young to have a sweetheart?" Gaul just shrugged in reply.

"Perrin doesn't like the idea of sending the boy away." Faile said, biting her lip.

"Your fights are not my fights, Faile Aybara. I don't agree to sending him away either, if you were to ask my opinion." Gaul did care about the boys. Sometimes his even gaze made her forget that.

"I don't see as there being any options left to me, Gaul. I don't want to send Dylan away either."

"Seems to me you never have a choice, Faile Aybara." Faile would have been angry with Gaul for that comment, but the Aiel smiled at her good-naturedly, so she bit down her protest.

"The child is going to throw a right fit when he learns where you plan to send him." Gaul said.

"Light, he is going to hate me." Faile dreaded.


	11. The Council of Lords

**The Council of Lords**

Karina was pacing her room frantically again. Yommen had gotten used to her skittish behaviour by now and as a general rule, he tried not bothering her at times like this. Unfortunately, today she was testing his patience.

"Yommen, you don't think it wise, do you?"

Yommen sighed, keeping his pen back down, symmetrically next to the paper. He handed her the paper, only to have it snatched away by Karina angrily before she signed it, without looking at the words and handing him the paper back. Yommen sighed again as he put the wax insignia of the Lamares.

"How could Zarine possibly have thought this a good idea? She wants the city to prepare for a festival while Theonelle prepares for a coup? It's a terrible idea."

"Faile." Yommen corrected her quietly.

"Zarine, Faile, pah, I can't keep up with her names. How does it matter?" Karina looked quite good when those thick eyebrows frowned in exasperation. Now, if only she could appreciate being quiet from time to time, Yommen wouldn't mind the idea of spending more time with her. He already spent most of his time in her company as it is.

"It matters, because you still see her as a Saldean lady." Yommen pushed back his white hair to uncover his eyes so he could look at her better.

"Now, don't be talking nonsense, Yommen. That's exactly what she is."

"No, she is not." Yommen persisted, "She is the Lady of Two Rivers, married to Lord Perrin Aybara. That's what she chooses to be."

Karina looked at him sideways, thoughtfully. Despite her childish behaviour, Yommen had realised she could be quite cunning. Yesterday, as soon as Yommen had made a gateway back from the Two Rivers, Karina had marched straight into the Merchants Guild. Yommen had spent a lot of time negotiating the right prices, but with the Black Tower connections all the Carheinin lords were in agreement – trade all the way from Saldea to Carhein will be established, with the Black Tower itself taking an enormous cut for providing gateways. This was the biggest trade network that Logain would have formed, in all of thirteen years of Black Tower existence. The debt that the Black Tower owed – a debt that no one knew about, and no one will know about (all Asha'man were particularly tight lipped about their finances) – to the stonemasons, Ogier and many artisons that had worked to build the town and the tower itself would be cleared by the Saldea-Carhein trade. Cleared, and then some. It suited well to maintain records for the Treasury, owing to the fact that Yommen was the Black Tower Treasurer – another thing that the Asha'man was tight lipped about. He had been raised to the Table four years back now, and had spent more time on building the Carhein network they had.

"So you are saying that Zarine doesn't want the throne?"

Yommen nodded.

"Preposterous!" Karina exclaimed, "Why would she give up her throne?"

Yommen sighed again. He was tired from having the same argument again.

"And what if she doesn't want the throne? Is she planning to give it to Theonelle then?" A look of horror gripped her face. "He is the _worst _choice for a candidate."

Yommen gave her a look.

"What?" Karina asked.

"You don't understand, do you? I think she is planning for you to take the throne."

Karina paled. She shook her head this way and that, then sat down on the chair opposite Yommen. She laughed.

"Don't be stupid."

Yommen sighed again. He had been doing a lot of that lately. Suddenly, the door opened, and in came a servant panting.

"My lady! The Council of Lords is convening."

Karina spat out the wine she had been sipping on.

"Blood and bloody ashes, Yommen! I told you they would try this, burn me. Convening without me! How dare they!"

Karina was on her feet at once, and out the door the next moment. Yommen said a word of thanks to the servant, tipped him a silver mark, then followed behind her footsteps.

Karina made quite the spectacle, slamming the doors of the throne room open. The Lords and Ladies had all gathered, taking their respective seats. Theonelle was addressing the lords, standing two steps away from the throne itself.

"I see a meeting has begun, without informing me. Are lies and treachery the way you mean to rule, Theonelle?" Karina exclaimed.

Yommen would have slapped his hand on his forehead had he had any less restraint. Thankfully, he simply stood next to her – providing a strong support was all he could do right now.

"The invitation was merely misplaced, my dear Karina. We were about to call you – as you can see, the meeting hasn't begun and wouldn't have either, without you."

Theonelle's smile was like poison to Karina, but she chewed down her disgust for the man and sat at her designated seat.

"I bring harsh news. All the farmers from the northern plains have come to Maradon. They abandon their farms to seek audience with our queen. If our farms are untended for any longer, light forbid, we will run out of winter rations very quick."

Theonelle looked around the room, his face full of feigned sympathy.

"The farmers are facing harsh conditions, plague has taken most of their crops and lack of rain worsens things. And now they abandon their farms because our queen is no where to be foun – "

"They abandoned their farms because you coaxed them to!" Karina spoke loudly. _Please stop making a fool of yourself, Karina, _Yommen prayed.

"I did no such thing, Karina." Theonelle looked afronted. He was seriously getting on his nerves, Yommen thought.

"And in such harsh times," the Lord continued, "Our queen wants to celebrate shanna'har. Talk about rubbing salt on wounds."

The other lords gathered around murmured their agreement.

"It's shanna'har. Every man and his wife are going to celebrate it, despite whether the queen wants it or not!" Karina said, standing up. "If anything, the people could use some cheer."

"And spend the treasury's pennies on cheer? I think the farmers would rather those pennies went to their farms!" Theonelle proclaimed loudly. A lot of agreement from the lords, this time.

"And how, pray, is that going to solve the diseased crops or the lack of rain?" Karina asked. Yommen looked up at the woman standing beside her. He saw her in a new light then. All the lords sitting around here thought money could solve all problems. No, it was worse than that. The lords thought of the farmers complaining as being a problem, then used it to usurp the queen. Only Karina stood tall, only she looked at the real problem. If one crop failed, it was time to plant another, and that was that.

"Regardless," Theonelle said, glaring at Karina, "we have bigger problems still. The queen has invited various dignitaries. Their friends, connections and lords and ladies who owe allegiance to her and her husband. Among them, the queen of Ghealdan, the queen of Mayene, the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, queen of Andor and Carhein, and the queen of Malkier. With their arrival, queen Faile has basically gathered a massive army. It is a fell move. With so many men from different nations, she breaches the Dragon's Peace itself!"

Karina shook her head. "They are queen Zarine's friends and well-wishers. She has only invited them to celebrate her shanna'har. It seems to me that you are making a big fuss over a little celebration."

"The number of men that will be gathered here – light, woman, we cannot let them in. The farmers are gathered in protest outside these very walls! We have to issue a decree proclaiming all men be denied entry to the city. That's the only way."

Karina laughed.

"And what, tell the queen of Malkier to camp outside the walls? I do not think any Borderland nation would stomach that kind of insult, Theonelle, much less the wife of Dai'shan."

The lord shifted in their seats. Yommen was continually surprised by her bluntness, and also at its effectiveness.

"And if a fight were to break out?" Theonelle asked, glaring at Karina.

"Might I interject, my Lord?" Yommen said. His statement was meant with silence. "Lady Karina shares the same fears as you."

"I do?" Karina asked, but only loud enough for Yommen to hear. He stood up.

"It is troublesome to think of so many foreign armies gathered around the same city. Which is why Lady Karina has reached out to the Aiel."

Silence. Well, that was good, Yommen thought.

"If you will allow me, the Aiel delegates would like a word with the Council."

Saying so, Yommen opened a gateway in the middle of the throne room. The lords gasped.

Three figures walked out. A tall Aiel man, an aged looking woman in a brown skirt, and a little girl, eight or nine in age perhaps. The Aes Sedai councelors gasped as the Aiel walked out, which to Yommen seemed odd. They had been mostly collected this entire meeting. What had caused such a reaction from the Aes Sedai?

The Aiel woman in the brown skirt spoke first.

"I am Amys, of the Taardad Aiel." The woman spoke with disciplined authority. She gestured towards the man to her right. "This is Behluin, clan chief of the Taardad Aiel."

Yommen was more preoccupied with the Aes Sedai to be noticing Amys' introductions. Why did the Aes Sedai look so on edge? Their eyes were positively popping.

"Light, how does she hold so much?" Yommen heard an Aes Sedai to his left wonder out loud, almost inaudibly. He followed her eyes to the little girl standing in front of Amys.

"And this," Amys said, gesturing to the nine-year old. "This is Padra al'Thor, of the Taardad Aiel. We offer you our assistance in keeping the city's peace."

_Light, al'Thor? _Yommen thought he had seen everything he needed to see.


	12. A Wise One

**A Wise One **

It was the next morning when Karina found herself sitting across Yommen once again. Karina was still in her bed robes, while Yommen, ever disciplined, wore his black coat pressed and pristine, the sword and dragon pins shining from the light coming through the massive arch windows. The overlarge painting of a burning Maradon completed the backdrop.

Karina was ruffling through today's paper. The announcement of grand festivities for shanna'har took most part of the front page; a picture of Lord Perrin and the queen accompanied the article.

"...twenty-three and four hundred casks of ale..." Yommen muttered, going through the logistics of the entire ordeal.

The Aiel baffled Karina. She remembered Faile's plan to bring as many men loyal to her cause as possible, under the guise of the festival. Theonelle would never attempt a coup with his villagers under such a situation – Andoran soldiers, Malkieri soldiers, Wolfguards, Children of the Light, Ghealdani Legion of the Wall, soldiers from Mayene, Carhein soldiers, light, there were countless men. If each ruler brought only four hundred men, as had been decided, there were still well over five thousand soldiers that would gather around Maradon in the next few days. Not to mention the thousand Aiel who had descended as well, almost the entirety of the Taardad Aiel. The lords still protested their presence, but they could do nothing about that. If the queen wanted the Aiel in her city, it was her choice, in accordance with the Dragon's Peace, and the lords could do nothing but complain for Faile was still the queen. The city had to be policed, with so many men arriving, and who better than the Aiel?

"... and we need to employ about a hundred more serving staff for the actual dinner itself." Yommen looked up at Karina, her sleepy eyes drifting off through her bed hair.

"You are not listening to a word I am saying, are you?" Yommen asked levelly. His voice, usually calm, had just a tinge of exasperation in it. Once the council of lords had realised there was no way out of the grand festival of shanna'har that Faile wanted, they had to delegate all the planning to someone. And Karina had been cruelly handed the candidacy for it.

"I am, hundred casks of ale are required, right? I am sure the Two Rivers can provide. It's Faile's own bloody celebration anyway." Karina proceeded to pour herself a cup of wine.

"You just woke up." Yommen said, eyeing Karina as she took a sip.

"Burn me, Yommen."

Karina hated shanna'har. She hated seeing the happy couple celebrating another year together. Shanna'har always reminded her of Daesean. She gulped her wine down.

There was a knock on the door. Seeing that Karina was busying herself with wine again, Yommen sighed and proceeded to open the door.

"Wise one" Yommen said, tilting his head, as Amys entered.

"Asha'man Yommen, may you find water and shade." She said simply.

"Likewise," saying so, Yommen moved to the side to let her in.

"Amys of the Taardad Aiel, welcome. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Karina said, sipping her wine.

Amys looked at the lady in her bed robes, sipping wine in her misshapen hair. She didn't tale a seat, simply stood. She looked at the painting adorning the wall for some time before speaking.

"It is my understanding that you are Faile Aybara's representative in Maradon."

"You could say that, although I am at a loss as to what she has actually planned for her shanna'har. Yommen suspects she is planning to give me the throne." Yommen winced. That was not something Karina was supposed to tell people. Amys simply nodded.

"There are worse who could ascend. If Faile were to choose you, it will not be another breaking of the world."

"Well, she will not, and I cannot. Do the Aiel have anything similar to the shanna'har? Do you celebrate a year completed as man and wife?" Karina asked. Light, she really does hate the shanna'har festival, Yommen thought.

"Nothing comes to mind, although I wouldn't know. Some do, some don't. My husband fell in the Last Battle, before we completed a year together." Amys said it in a straightforward fashion.

"Rhuarc earned much _ji _that day." Yommen replied before Karina could say something forward. Yommen had some experience dealing with the Aiel, and he thought he understood _ji'e'toh _as best as any wetlander could understand it. As for how he knew Rhuarc, well, who didn't? Anyone who knew anything about Aiel knew Rhuarc. The man would be a bloody Hero of the Horn, Yommen thought.

Amys smiled motherly at Yommen.

"My condolences, Wise One Amys. My husband Daesean fell during the Last Battle as well."

"Then we share much the same pain, Lady Karina." Karina gulped again from her cup.

"A lot of good men died during the battle. We owe this world to them." Amys continued, "There are a lot of simple folk gathered outside. They cause a commotion. I came to offer the help of the Aiel, if you wish our help."

"Honestly, I have no bloody clue why Faile would want Aiel to be present here today. It would be nice if you could move the crowd a pace or two back, but I will not allow a Saldean citizen hurt under any occasion." Karina would not allow any harm to her people. It was already hard on them, considering all the hardships the villagers were suffering.

"Then perhaps you should try a different tactic."

"I am all ears, Wise one." Karina said, keeping her cup down.

"Parley," Amys said simply. Karina laughed.

"Do you think I wouldn't do that if I could. The farmers are refusing to meet anyone except the queen. And Theonelle, I suppose." She replied bitterly.

"They turn to Theonelle out of desperation, not loyalty."

Karina sighed. Yommen sat down beside her.

"Padra al'Thor. What was the meaning of bringing her to the throne room?" Yommen asked.

"It was a symbol of authority," Karina said off-handedly.

"Not quite," Amys replied. Both of them looked at her. "Padra is training to be a wise one, and she needs to learn to be in a court. Much of what the Aiel do now is in courts."

"Are you telling me you brought the daughter of the Dragon Reborn to the Council of Lords just to train the girl into becoming a Wise One?" Yommen asked.

"Well, maybe to stop the squabbling. Wetlanders do squabble a lot, and wetlander lords more so." Amys said with a calculated smile.

Light, this woman was no pushover. Thinking about what she said, Karina conceded there was a measure of truth to it.

"Let me make one thing clear though," Amys said, and all mirth was lost from her, "the Aiel dance their spears for no lord. We will not be a part of your politics. We have been asked by Faile Aybara to police the city during the shanna'har festival, and that is all we will do."

_What a bunch of nonsense, _Karina thought, slightly tipsy now, pouring her fourth cup since the morning behind Amys' receding back, y_ou are already well into our politics, Wise one._


	13. The Sitter from the Red Ajah

Author's Note: Sorry, fellas, for the late story. Was busy the last few days with tons of work. I will keep at it, one chapter each day, or at least that's the plan. From time to time I might be a day or two late - but the wheel weaves as the wheel wills, huh?

Another thing I wanted to clarify was the format I am going for with this story. It is my intention for the Adventures of Androl and Pevara to take on three story arcs. The first story arc is the Succession of Saldea, which is the one I am currently writing and I am halfway done with this arc. More information on the other two story arcs on future chapters. Enjoy!

* * *

**The Sitter from the Red Ajah**

Conler Aybara was on his horse, riding the North Road to Watch Hill. The town could be seen in a distance, gray walls rising high, the old watch tower rebuilt as a fortress. The wolfhead banner graced the highest tower of the small fort. If Emond's Field was beautiful and green, Watch Hill was the opposite – gray and industrious. The several mining operations, metal work and constant construction sites billowed smoke in to the air. The main Wolfguard garrison was also located in Watch Hill, and Conler meant to avoid them at all cost. It would not do for him to be recognized.

Conler rode through the back gate – he knew the guards would be on break. No one really used the back gate, except for miners who were too busy to look at one little lordling. The Mountains of Mist loomed behind Con as he entered. Conler rode through the town, all the way to the extreme end that held much of the Westwood. He knew the way to the Lhandry farm, and got off his horse to walk the rest of the way. He didn't want to surprise anyone.

The path through the woods was narrow, and Conler had that terrible feeling of being watched again. He always did when he entered the woods.

_Are you on the hunt, Softpaw? _

Conler spun around. Where had the voice come from? He peered through the trees, but nothing save hollow light responded back. He must have been mistaken, or otherwise hearing voices in your head didn't bode well for him. He remembered how his father always used to say old things lurked in the woods. With a shudder, he made his way forward.

He found his brother at his usual spot, sitting under a massive tree and helping Eowyn collect mushrooms.

"Dylan," Conler said softly. Eowyn looked up, startled, and dropped the bag of mushrooms she was carrying. Dylan stood up, then dropped down to help Eowyn with the spilled bag. Both their ears were red. Had they been holding hands, Conler wondered.

"Ho, Con, that was sudde - "

Dylan stopped, peered at him for some time. He approached Conler and putting a hand on his shoulder, drew him to the side. Coming close, he whispered.

"Conler, your eyes."

It was Conler's turn to be startled. He looked at his reflection on a little puddle of clear water. His eyes sparkled golden.

Conler rubbed at them, blinked furiously, rubbed again. He scooped some of the water up and splashed it on his face. A dried leaf clung to Con's hair. Dylan took it out and put an arm around his brother.

"It is fine, Con, it's all fine."

Slowly Conler's eyes regained its soft gray.

"What happened?" Dylan asked.

"Mother, she wants us in court. The queen of Andor is going to be there in half hour." Conler seemed frantic. Dylan rubbed his shoulder.

"You will be fine, Con, calm. Eowyn," The little girl looked at Dylan, "I am sorry I will have to leave."

"You are going to Saldea? I will be terribly lonely without you." She said.

"And I, without you," Dylan said with a boyish smile, "But I will bring you something nice from Saldea. Anything you like."

Eowyn laughed. She hadn't seen Conler's eyes, luckily.

"Just go, Lord Dylan Aybara." She pushed him playfully.

Dylan mounted his horse, and so did Conler.

Pevara was seated at a cosy table in the gardens outside the Aybara manor, sipping at her kaf, with a book on the table preventing the many papers she had from flying away, when the two boys rode in. The elder, Dylan, was the first to dismount. An Aiel woman exited from the manor the minute Dylan was on the ground, and from the looks of it, she was having some stern words with the boys. Pevara used the one power very discreetly, out of curiosity, to increase her range of hearing.

"… You children have done it today! After telling you a hundred times, do not run off, you still … "

"We are sorry, Aunt Chiad."

"If you keep making the same mistakes, then sorry won't get you any far. When I told you boys, you need to be ready to receive the queen. You w –"

"Aunt Chiad. I think Conler should speak with Seonid sedai before we leave."

There was a pause.

"Did it happen again?" The Aiel asked.

"I am sorry." The younger brother said.

"Conler Aybara, it is not something you should apologize for. Let's go meet Seonid sedai."

Saying so the Aiel named Chiad took Conler by hand and they walked off inside the manor. Dylan lingered only for a moment, noticed Pevara staring and followed his brother.

_Interesting. What do you make of it? _Androl sent. He was inside the manor, and nowhere in sight, working with Grady on the finer details of the Saldea-Carhein trade route. Even so, he had heard the entire conversation. It was probably because Pevara had been using the One Power to spy – her mind must have concentrating too singularly on the boys' conversation.

_I don't know, maybe the younger brother wet his pants?_

_But the Aiel sounded rather worried. _Androl sent. Pevara mentally shrugged, and she felt Androl send a tone of 'so be it'.

Pevara finished her cup of kaf and went on with the various paperwork of the Black Tower. Upkeep and maintenance of the tower and surrounding town kept Pevara and Androl busy – their assigned jobs. The debt that the Black Tower had amassed was rather enormous, and the services the Tower provided to the nations barely kept them on the surface. The town, which was once called the Farm, was now called Doon Warat, Old Tongue for black branch. Doon Warat had grown regardless of the Black Tower finances – owing to the stubborn nature of Andoran capitalism. Merchants, peddlers, farmers, innkeepers, blacksmiths, you name it – Doon Warat had everything. Which was the problem all along. They had too many professions, but resources for none. Trade was one thing, but to make much profit, Pevera felt the Black Tower needed to find its unique trade. There was a growing music hub in Doon Warat, perhaps that could be of use.

Pevara remembered the time when Tamyrlin Logain had asked Androl to join him at the Table. Pevara had been proud then, which had turned to anger very quickly when Androl had refused the position. Why on all things touched by Light would he refuse, to this day Pevara didn't understand. They had their rare fights that day, Androl completely blocking his mind from her, and she locking herself in the bedroom. Androl had slept in the tavern that night.

Instead, Logain had charged them with the duty of maintaining relations with other nations, and keeping the people of Doon Warat fed and satisfied. It had taken Pevara days to realise, but this was the more important task – yes, members of the Table had direct influence over nations and enjoyed levels of power, but what Androl and Pevara did would seal the future of the Black Tower as being prosperous or otherwise. For without the surrounding town of Doon Warat, Black Tower was just an institution, not much different than the Great School of Research in Carhein. It was the people, and the lives they led, that showed the world what the Black Tower could accomplish.

So Pevara laboured away at the many papers – keeping tabs on recent reports of the new inns opening up, news businesses being started, land being bought and mortgaged. At the very least, she was outside in the sun, in the beautiful gardens of the Wolf manor. Lost thus, she didn't notice a figure approach her from behind.

"Ah, Logain has set you to work, has he now?" Kismael smiled.

Pevara instantly reached for the papers and kept them neatly in a stack, between the pages of the book she had been using as a paperweight.

"Hullo, Kismael. It is a good morning to be outside." She replied. It was hard to keep her voice calm.

"It is, indeed. How is life at the Black Tower, Pevara?"

"It is well." Pevara had narrowed eyes. The debts the Black Tower was a very well kept secret, but she would not put it past the White Tower to have poked their noses well into every secret they could possibly find on them.

Kismael was ever beautiful, her hair straighter than the sword Androl carried on his hip.

"And where is your pup? Or is it the other way around?" Her sweet smile resembled a snake in Pevara's mind. It wasn't that Kismael had taken her position as a Red Sitter that irked Pevara so, but the way she always treated Androl. As if he were still likely to go mad and prey on the people of the land. Many Reds from the White Tower, Kismael not being one of them, had taken Asha'man warders, but very few of them had decided to stay in the Black Tower. It was usually the other way around – Reds who had Asha'man warders would take their warders with them.

Partly, Androl and Pevara were to blame. Logain and Cadsuane, the respective leaders of the Black and White Towers, had decreed that both parties will have a choice in the matter – opting for the traditional ways of warding man and woman. So when the Reds continued their trips to the Black Tower to ward them, Pevara thought most men would send them back. Unfortunately all Asha'man had seen the bond Androl and Pevara shared and for some undefined reason they wanted that for themselves.

"Look Kismael, you are on your business, I on mine. Why don't we stick to that?" Pevara said straightforwardly.

"Fair enough." Kismael said, and started walking away.

"Why does Cadsuane want Theonelle on the throne? Does she think that fool would be easier to control? Or is it purely to spite the Black Tower?" Pevara blurted out to Kismael's receding back. The Red sister turned, and gave her fellow Red a stern gaze.

"Theonelle?" Kismael laughed mirthlessly, mockingly, spitefully, "You know what really bothers me, Pevara? I used to look up to you – you were a Sitter at the Hall. But now you behave as if you are not even an Aes Sedai."

Saying so Kismael marched away.


	14. A Welcome for the White Lion

**A Welcome for the White Lion**

The wolf manor stood wide rather than tall, its many pillars supporting the sloping gray tiled roof with discerning ease. The manor itself lay on a small rise, hardly a hill, but the estates covered long walks of gardens, several rather large tents that held the Aiel (who despite all custom, had decided to join Perrin), and a little ways off there was a smaller guest manor and stables. To Faile, it was home, a simple and peaceful one, a place where she could raise her two boys. Presently, she walked towards the entrance of the manor, where she would greet the Andoran royalty shortly. She was dressed in a deep green gown, her hair braided in a traditional Two Rivers way.

Seonid walked beside her, all businesslike and smart, with her warders trailing behind them.

"I have been studying as much as I can on the subject, but even during the Age of Legends, mention of the wolf is rare. It is possible that it is a relic from an even earlier age." Seonid was saying scholarly.

"Whatever it is, Seonid, any information will be of use. Did you learn something of use from Tanaya and Kismael?" Faile asked. She absentmindedly traced her scar over her cheek – a mark given by the trollock who had fallen over her. She had barely survived – and she owed her life to her husband. For some reason though, Perrin insisted it was to her that he owed his life many times over. Peculiar, how men could behave. She was rather fond of it.

"Nothing as such, they are being rather tight lipped. I predict some complications – I have noted their movements and I am sure they have been in contact with the Merchant Guild in Saldea. For what reason, I cannot say. The merchants have agreed to our offer for trade through Carhein, though, so I expect they would extend support for you." Seonid had a frown. "I hope you do not take Conler's condition lightly, lady Faile."

"I do not take anything lightly when it concerns my son, Seonid." Faile replied fiercely.

Seonid walked with her, not looking too convinced.

Thought of Conler did make her worry, but Faile was a proud woman and the fact that she was the mother of a wolfbrother was a matter of pride rather than caution. Her son would be a great man, just like his father, of that she was sure.

As for Dylan, Faile worried more for him than Con. He was too soft a kid, too generous, too kind and too mild. As her eldest, she had greater expectation from him, but the more she thought about it, the more it concerned her what she had planned for the boy. It would be for his own good, he deserved greatness, and as a mother she would do anything to make his life better. But she was completely aware of how Dylan would take it – with anger and hate.

Regardless, now was not the time to fret over these things. Now was the time to greet their liege.

When Faile stepped outside, she waited at the top of the stairs to receive the party. She stood beside the towering figure of her husband, and her two sons filled the side next to her. Seonid stood a way off, and Grady to the other. Gaul secured a place next to Perrin and Tam al'Thor, of course, was at the bottom of the stairs. He would be the first to greet Queen Elayne; after all family comes first.

They stood for twenty minutes in that place, murmuring amongst themselves, the wind rippling their coats and dresses – Elayne was late. At last a gateway opened wide, and out stepped soldiers in Andoran uniform, red and white. The white lion adorned their shiny breastplate. Then followed the orange clad women – the Kin, dressed from the top of the neck to the very heel in orange, showing no bare skin whatsoever. Even their faces they covered in an orange veil – a way to brandish themselves as different from the Aes Sedai, perhaps. Then stepped the queen herself, looking every bit as grand and elegant as the stories told about her; beautiful like the rising sun, a smile on her face so radiant the shadows of the wolf manor receded.

She was followed by her two children, twins. Both were extremely tall, the boy had a soft red hair, barely more coloured than blonde. The girl had a devilish red hair, so bright it hurt to look. Both had eyes that changed colour from blue to gray, depending on how the light hit it. They were one year older than Dylan, and three from Con, but they looked much older, both physically formed enough to be in their teens.

Queen Elayne walked with ease and confidence as if she was at her own rooms. She pushed her flowing dress wide, her hair shimmering golden, and when Tam greeted her with a bow, she rushed instead to hug him.

"Tam, I hope you have been well," the queen said with a wide smile.

"It is as it goes, getting older by the day." Tam complained, but it was obvious he was happy to see her. They had built a close relationship over the years, owing to their shared loss – for one the loss of a son, for the other the loss of a lover.

The two children greeted their grandfather with much the same ease, opting to hug him. Faile noticed the two Aes Sedai, the Androl and Pevara pair and Balwer at the edge of the gardens. Quite a few people had come to watch the procession, and those who had not would undoubtedly know about it in tomorrow's paper, owing to Balwer's presence. He even had his assistant making a quick sketch as he frantically drew with his charcoal.

Perrin stepped down the stairs, and Faile followed. They bowed to the queen and Dylan and Conler followed suit. The queen, to her credit, smiled.

"How are you Dylan, Conler? Light, don't they grow fast? It seems like only yesterday when I told little Dylan stories on my lap." Dylan cringed awkwardly as the queen planted a kiss on his cheek.

Faile and Elayne had much to gain by forming a alliance between them, and for that reason the two families were close. To Dylan and Conler, meeting Eloise and Elgaide al'Thor Trakand was akin to meeting their cousins. That didn't necessarily mean the two liked each other; especially Dylan and Elgaide. The two boys had formed a small enmity between them, ever since Elgaide had thoroughly beaten Dylan at a spar with swords. Dylan found Elgaide to be too haughty, arrogant, his nose always up in the air. Elgaide on the other hand felt Dylan to be a simpleton. Conler and Eloise were the mature ones – they had little to no interest in their brothers' antics.

Faile and Elayne had long hoped for Eloise to harbour feelings for Dylan – an engagement would help Elayne seal Two Rivers as her own. Queen Elayne, to this day, regretted granting Perrin autonomy from Andor. Now the Two Rivers was possibly the fastest growing land in the world, and Elayne made no profit from it. Oh, in trade and tourism, she made quite a bit – but a simple tax would grant Elayne enough riches to fuse Andor and Carhein into one entity, something that she had long desired.

In any case, Perrin had made them promise not to force their children into anything. That didn't mean Faile and Elayne didn't try.

After ruffling Conler's hair, Elayne looked at Perrin.

"It is our pleasure to host you, your Majesty; we are delighted to have you accept our invitation." He said, quite regally. Elayne nodded.

"Nonsense, of course, I would have come to celebrate your anniversary, Perrin, if you wished my presence. It is a little request, for friends."

With that, there was much laughter and chatter amongst them. Lord Perrin escorted them inside, and Faile was last to follow. Once inside, away from the prying eyes, the queen and her children relaxed visibly. Perrin was the usual Perrin, a warm static presence.

Eloise and Elgaide took their leave, Eloise making her way to her rooms, escorted by two servants, while Elgaide made his way towards the training grounds. He was forever smug of his fighting prowess, and for him, training was where he found his peace. Dylan was the one who kept Elgaide company, surprisingly enough. Conler, like Eloise, made his way to his rooms – for him the Adventures of Jain Farstrider awaited.

Elayne sighed deeply.

"Now that that farce is over," She said, exhaling. Some servants offered her tea, but she waved her hand. "Faile, please do me a favour and expain what is going on in Saldea? I hear constant chiding from the Amyrlin to keep you in check, and I have half a mind to do so."

Faile only smiled in reply.

"Why don't we make ourselves more comfortable?"

The queen was led by Faile and Perrin to the more secluded section of the gardens, an area accessible only through the main manor. A set of rather grand white chairs stood under the shade of a large arch, the pillars of which were also white and engraved with wolves and falcons. It took Faile the better part of half hour to relate the events that had occurred in Saldea.

"So, is it true? You actually forsake your lands and titles? To be a Hunter of the Horn?" Elayne asked incredulously.

"We all made mistakes when we were younger."

"Mother's milk in a cup!" Elayne exclaimed, "Making a mistake is what you call it, Perrin? Light."

Faile had gotten used to the queen's cursing habits in the many years since the Last Battle, but Perrin still adjusted himself in his seat when he heard Elayne's words.

"Regardless, Saldea will still be under our lineage." Faile reassured.

"So long as the Two Rivers remains under mine." Elayne replied with narrowed eyes. Faile had assimilated too much power, and both Perrin and Faile understood why that would make a ruler uncomfortable. Elayne was one of those rulers who would take power given to them in any form, but giving power away was not one thing she would willingly do. There would be civil war if Faile tried to raise the flag of Manethern again, of that she was sure. And with the many dragons Elayne had at her disposal, that was not a lucrative option.

Elayne sighed again. A servant was beckoned to pour her wine, and she only continued after she had relished two sips from her cup.

"So Perrin, have you heard from Thom, by any chance?"

Perrin shrugged, "Moiraine and Thom never did stop with their adventures. It was us for whom the stories stopped at Tarmon Gai'don. I don't think this life suits them."

Elayne nodded. "I would still like them to visit, some day. They never do stay in one place for long."

"I can't say I have ever met them since the aftermath of Shayol Ghul, have you, husband?" Perrin shook his head dejectedly to his wife's inquiry.

"I hope wherever they are, they are well." Elayne said. She mused for a while, listening to the birds chirp. "What of the great Emperor, our dear beloved Matrim?"

Perrin did chuckle at that. That Mat would become a Seanchan Emperor one day – it was beyond his understanding.

"Alas, Elayne, I hardly hear from the man. Hopefully he is busying himself catching badgers. Must have caught a hundred by now." Perrin chuckled again as he said this.

"One would think he would have some inclination to visit his hometown." Faile observed coldly. She had quite a disapproval for Matrim Cauthon.

"Mat? Oh no, the Two Rivers was too small for his light forsaken big head." Elayne laughed.

"I wish he missed Emond's Field. I could surely use a laugh." Perrin said nonchalantly, checking his pockets for a pipe. Faile eyed him, soft eyes of a wife full of concern.

"I could, as well, Lord Goldeneyes, I could as well." Elayne's cup was over, so Faile beckoned the servant again. But the flask of wine jumped out of the servant's hands and flew towards their table. It filled their cups and went back to the servant. Elayne took a contended sip.

"Now, tell me what you plan to do in your shanna'har and what can I do to help?"

"Elayne, this time, all you need to do is put your feet up and enjoy the festival." Perrin smiled sincerely.


	15. Old Love, New Love

Author's note: Sorry guys, I took some LSD last saturday, and I might have accidentally taken too much because my brain melted and I was just too tired afterwards to write a word. I promise I am going to see this story through to the end, this arc might even be extended by a few chapters, dont kill me please. Also, I would really like to know what you think about the OCs I introduced- namely, Conler Aybara, Dylan Aybara, Eloise al'Thor Trakand, Elgaide al'Thor Trakand, Karina Lamare and Yommen.

* * *

**Old Love, New Love**

It was much later in the afternoon, where the Andoran sun blazed overhead on the training grounds in the Aybara manor. Dylan's bare torso was drenched in sweat as he brandished his sword – towards the left, sidestepping from the right, swinging upwards then sweeping it down. Every time he slashed, a clank resounded, wood striking wood, as his blow was parried. Dylan growled and tried again with heron rises in the morning, and again he was pushed away. Clank, clank, clank and clank again.

Elgaide was toying by this point; he stood pointing his sword to his side, his other hand barely resting on the hilt. He was bored of his competition – he was the son of the Dragon Reborn, for him such rabble mattered not. In three moves, he ended Dylan's attack, and in the next one, his sword found Dylan's neck.

"Nice form, Elgaide, keep it up. Dylan up you come now, boy." Tam al'Thor was carefully watching the kids.

"Thank you, grandfather." Elgaide beamed, pushing his golden-red hair to a more presentable shape. He could really turn up the charm, that Elgaide, Dylan thought furiously. He got up, but did not assume his stance.

"I am done, master al'Thor. If I may be excused." Tam nodded, but Dylan did not wait for his approval. He made his way back towards the manor.

"What is with him?" Elgaide wondered.

"Nothing child, he will train again, another day." Tam replied calmly.

"I think he is jealous." Elgaide said earnestly.

Tam was sure it was true, to a certain extent. But he did not like his grandson's attitude – perhaps spending time around all that royalty, who only bowed and scraped, changed you. It didn't help that he had no father to show him how to act. Being surrounded by people who always said yes to whatever you asked of them must be the roughest childhood anyone could have, Tam thought.

"Jealous of what?" Tam inquired carefully.

"Because I'm the better swordsman." Elgaide responded, puffing up his chest.

Tam sighed. At least the boy hadn't said because he was the prince of Andor.

"The sword isn't everything, Elgy."

"No, it isn't," the boy's quick response, "I am also the strongest male channeler alive. And I am going to be the Tamyrlin one day. The Black Tower will become the strongest pillar for my sister's rule."

Too young to be thinking these things, Tam thought, wincing. As for being the strongest male channeler, Tam didn't know much, but he assumed there were plenty others – Logain, for one, the Tamyrlin of the Black Tower itself, and then there were the other grandchildren of his, the Aiel ones. Surely, Alarch and Janduin were close to his power. Well, it didn't matter. The fact was, Elgaide was arrogant enough to believe that claim. Next he would be claiming he could outmatch Lan Mandragoran at the sword.

"Don't speak of things you have yet to do, boy. Besides, Dylan isn't jealous – he is just learning something you have yet to learn."

"Learning what? Losing?" Elgaide laughed. Tam gave the boy a severe eye.

"Precisely," He replied in a heavy voice.

"Why in light would anyone want to learn that?"

Tam considered for a second. He called forward another boy training under Tam, in simple village clothes, to be Elgaide's new challenger.

"Because it makes you a better winner."

Tam pointed with his finger to let the sprawl begin.

At the motion of Tam's finger, the farmboy came at Elgaide with hammer on high wind, the sword a blur barely distinguishable. Elgaide blocked, but was met with fox jumps sideways, and blocked again. Before long, he broke sweat and realised he was losing.

Conler was at the other side of the estate, at his usual porch. His one barefoot leg tapped gently on the grass, hanging over the edge of the porch. His other leg rested high on one of the pillars, his back rested on another, in a position so laidback, one could fall asleep looking at Con. In his hand lay the book _The Dragon Reborn by Loial son Arent son of Halan. _The book was rather thick, and too scholarly for a boy of his age, as Seonid Sedai would say, but she didn't forbid him from reading it. Con was only interested in the chapters that contained his father and his spoils of war. How he fell in love with mother, and what he had to endure to become this family that they had created. He liked reading the book only for that – a side of his father he would never know. To all the people, Perrin Aybara was a wolfbrother, a legend who travelled dreams and inspired armies and enforced peace. To Con, he was just father.

He was reading the part when his father had come back to Two Rivers, with mother. The Children of the Light's negligence had almost lost them the battle, that day. The more he read the chapter, the more he realised why father loved mother so. It was a love of the old books, of old stories, told rather than written, and it was something Con knew he could never understand.

"Hmm. That is a good book," Eloise had crept up behind Con without him realising, something most people were incapable of. He wondered whether she was using the One Power right now. The way the book explained it, there were supposed to be weaves coming out of her and light only knows what else. It was something that interested Conler very much.

Eloise sat herself next to Con and peeked at the book. She quickly scanned it and said, "You know, mother says not everything in the book is accurate. There is a version of the events of the Dragon Reborn written by Ferose Mangre, an Aes Sedai, and it is a more detailed account of the actual events. Loial tends to gravitate too much on the emotions rather than the history."

Eloise's stark red hair fell on the pages of the book. It was the first time that the eight-year old Conler had found a girl beautiful. He didn't quite understand how to react to this strange feeling, with red rising in his cheek, a shade just shy of Eloise's hair, so he chose to, or rather had no choice but to, remain silent.

"Hmm," Eloise continued, "Although I think my mother might be partial to Ferose's version simply because she is present in her book for a much longer time. Loial made her like a side character." Eloise broke into a nasty smile. "Which is probably what my mother was." She winked at Con, who felt his heart flutter for the first time as well.

Conler had met Eloise many times before, they had even played together as toddlers. But in the one year they hadn't seen each other, Eloise had become much taller, much fairer, much more lady-like. He had never noticed how full her eyebrows were.

Con shook his head to force himself out of his reverie. She must be using the One Power. That was the only explanation.

"Are you using the Source?" Con asked, this being the only thing he could ask.

"Why, you got a problem with that?" She said haughtily. "I am not using it, just holding it." She then proceeded to make a flame in her hand.

"How does the weaves work?" Con asked, fascinated.

"You wanna see?" She asked, that nasty smile in place again.

Somewhere in far off space, maybe halfway across the Aryth Ocean, huge albatrosses glided, butterflies fluttered around in long lost meadows of Manetheren, flowers of another age, an age yet to come, an age long past, bloomed, and Con's sometimes gray, sometimes golden eyes, acquired a tint of pink rose. Eloise turned the flame into an orb of light, then into a stream of water, then ice. And suddenly clouds gathered above, dark clouds, and a slow drizzle began. Eloise blew a loose strand of red hair tickling her nose away, put on a look of concentration, and the slow drizzle became the first snow, falling lightly, gently, over Conler's hair. A summer snow, through rose tinted eyes.

"Eloise!" A scream was heard through the courtyard. It ended as quickly as it had started.

Seonid Sedai practically jogged over to Eloise, her skirts swivelling about in fury. She was quickly followed by an orange clad Kinswoman, then Androl and Pevara appeared as well.

Seonid Sedai didn't wait for anyone. She was the first to reach Eloise, and immediately pulled her ear.

"Oi – ouch! Seonid Sedai, that hurts!" Eloise shouted in protest.

"You will burn yourself out, using that much saidar! Have you lost the little wits you had with you! You are worse than your mother! Going about changing the weather like this, you should be hanged by your ankles, young lady."

"Owie – can you please let go?" Eloise asked, as regally as she could manage in that predicament. Seonid did, but the Kinswoman was right behind her, berating Eloise for her lack of restraint. Pevara Sedai stood to the side, not saying a word, firm disapproval in her face, while Guardian Androl stood with a bemused expression.

Conler's sharp ears heard Pevara mumble something along the lines of "If she was in the Tower, she would be spending every single day with the Mistress of Novices, and every single night tending to her hide." Con shivered when he sensed the truth in her muttered words.

"Release saidar." Seonid ordered her.

"I have been channeling from the womb, Seonid Sedai, I believe I'm more than capab – "

Seonid gave her a very stern look. Eloise sighed, and Conler assumed she did as she was told, for everyone relaxed a moment later.

"Don't let me catch you for this again, child." Seonid admonished.

"Let's go, Con," Eloise said with a glare. She held his hand and led him away, towards the gates. Con forgot everything that had happened, and allowed himself be carried away – at least that's how it felt.

Half hour later, Eloise and Conler were out in Emond's Field, the marketplace already bustling. Eloise had been fuming about the whole incident throughout.

"…if that witch was in Caemlyn, I swear…"

Conler vaguely wondered why she had left the manor so hastily. Perhaps she knew Queen Elayne was going to give her a sharp scolding, and decided to delay that as much as possible. Either way, the sun was high, there was a cool breeze blowing, and Conler was rather enjoying the afternoon.

"Hey Con," Eloise said suddenly, nudging him from horseback, a change of tone that brought Conler back to the present, "isn't that Dy?"

Conler peered in the direction she pointed at. Sure enough, Dylan was on his horse, riding slowly away from the markets. Conler could only guess where.

The nasty smile was back on Eloise.

"Shall we follow him?"

Conler had still to figure out how to say no to her.


	16. The Fall of the Prince

**The Fall of the Prince**

Several women were haggling loudly over a price of a silken dress – one of the women was a Carheinin, possibly a noble, judging by the frills on her coat, and the shop she was at was one of the largest in the entirety of Two Rivers. The Emond's Field marketplace was just such a thing – it didn't matter whether you were noble or a shepherd, you needed to bargain here, the louder, the better. In fact Emond's Field markets had developed a fame throughout the world, even amongst the Sea Folk, of driving the hardest bargains over the pettiest of products. Elgaide was leading his horse through the crowd, passing the haggling women in the big store. He couldn't ride his horse through this many people, and in any case, his entire backside was sore from a terrible fall he had taken earlier, sprawling against that farm boy. Light, he had been something fierce. The memory galled Elgaide so much, he fumed spit. Bested at the sword, by a farm boy, no less. And he called himself the First Prince of Andor? The son of the Dragon Reborn? He had half a mind of calling some of the guards and getting the farm boy beaten senseless.

He thought of what Tam would think of that, and scowled. He could have blasted the villager swordsman with the One Power, but what good would that serve? His skill would now forever be questioned – by a farm boy! Light!

He passed several Aiel shouting against a merchant trying to sell them a miniature wooden replica of the Avendesora tree. Not even the Aiel could scare Two Rivers' merchants.

"Ho, prince! Would you like to buy some silks? For your mother? For your sister?"

Elgaide quickly motioned the woman away. Dawdling in these streets could seriously hamper his purse strings. He made it to the Green, the only square in Emond's Field where stores and stalls were not allowed to be set up. People would sit around the statue of the wolf, on stone benches near the four trees in each corner, casting an expansive shade throughout the square, and eat street food – meatbuns, Sea Folk delicacies made with fried fish served on a stick, Illianer sweets; any kind of street food available in the world was present in Emond's Field, owing to its diverse population.

Elgaide was too instantly recognizable – he was the prince of Andor and the Two Rivers was a part of it, even if every Two Riverrun down to the man would like to disagree. His pictures would make it to the newspapers every now and then, and his coat was extremely royal. So Elgaide tried to keep his head low, and led his horse through the square. He prepared himself to dive back into the market crowds – the Green was right in the middle of the town after all, and the market stretched seamlessly around it. For Elgaide to leave the town walls he would need to cross the other side of the markets. The trouble it took just for a young city boy to ride his horse in silence.

Riding and the sword were the only two things that gave Elgaide any joy. One Power was an amazing rush as well, but knowing that he was amongst the most powerful in Saidin bored him, and frankly, he would take a ride through the countryside over channeling any day. Eloise was different – Elgaide suspected there were hardly an hour of the day where his sister wasn't at least holding Saidar.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Elgaide suddenly noticed two figures pushing past people. Now, what was Eloise and Conler up to? Curious, Elgaide decided to follow.

Crossing the North Road from Emond's Field would lead one to Watch Hill, an industrious town, starkly dissimilar from the capital of Two Rivers. All gray uneven stone walls, with smoke rising from the top, and a massive fort-like tower near the foothills of the Mountains of Mist, where construction continued even after ten years, Watch Hill was a spectacle for any who were interested in muddy black roads, grimy inns, drunk miners in the middle of noon and women with language that the Queen of Andor would highly appreciate.

But move just a bit further, into the Westwoods, and suddenly you would be greeted by new farm lands (created after moving a lot of lumber from the woods for the expense of the construction). Lush wheat grew in these parts, and corn, and parsley. At one specific farm, as nondescript as the others, Dylan waved a kernel of wheat, hidden deep within the wheat farm. The kernel in his hand blew against the wind, and tickled Eowyn's ear, who giggled.

"Stop it," she laughed, slapping the kernel of wheat away.

"Stop what?" Dylan asked, tickling her neck with it now.

"Dy!" She laughed.

Young love was such a pure thing – laying on haystacks and giggling. It was a sad fact that all other love, romances yet to come, other than your first lost its purity – for it lost its innocence. The mind becomes tainted with loss, and in a way, experience. But Dylan needn't worry about that today, for him first love was still blooming, readying for harvest, just like the wheat they were surrounded by.

"Hey, Dy? Would you forget about me when you go to Saldea?" Eowyn's big eyes asked.

"Why would I ever do such a thing?" Dylan asked, genuinely confused.

"Well – I have heard the Saldean girls are very pretty."

"Nothing compared to you." Dylan answered smoothly and earnestly.

"Don't you forget me, Dy, promise me." Eowyn said again, sternly. Dylan scratched his head, dropping the kernel.

"You keep asking me this, as if I am going anywhere." Dylan laughed. "Father is here, mother is here, Con is here, Uncle Gaul is here, and Master al'Thor and Grady. And you. Oh, Eowyn, you are here so why would I ever leave Emond's Field? I would have no reason to forget you, for I am sure you wouldn't let me. If I did, you would chase me with that sickle of yours!" Dylan laughed heartily. He would one day grow into his father's booming laugh, but the ten year old boy still had a high-pitched voice, pure and untouched, just like his words.

"Dy, promise me." Eowyn said looking at him. Dylan smiled and kissed her cheek in response. He opened his mouth, just about to say the words, when a rustle was heard behind them.

"Yeah, Dy, why don't you promise her?"

Through the field of wheat entered the beautiful figure of Eloise, full of mirth and nasty grins. Con followed behind her, head drooping, trying to pull Eloise away by the shoulder. She simply kept shrugging him off, hands on her waist, and a laugh on her lips.

"What in Light!" Dylan cursed.

"I am sorry, brother, I tried stopping her but she wouldn't listen." Con said softly.

"Wait, you were there all this time? How could you Con!"

Con looked down apologetically. It was too much to hope the same of Eloise.

"Oh, please don't let us stop your play, Dylan. You were just about to promise her something. E-o-w-y-n, I will stay by your side forever – "

Dylan's ears turned red, and Eowyn cheeks blazed in anger.

"Shut up, Elle!" Dylan shouted at Eloise.

" – and ever, and ever, and – " Eloise continued loudly, in a sing song voice.

"You are being mean, Elle." Conler said to her softly.

"Oh come on, you boys are no fun!" Eloise laughed. "Dylan is in l-o-o-o-o-v-e!"

"I'm not!" Dylan screamed, ears turning into an ugly shade of purple. Eowyn was embarrassed enough to stay mum. It was a thing of children – admitting what was obvious was not a thing that could be taught, it had to be learnt. And between the four children in the field, there were still a few years before they learnt this.

"How could you have spied on me, Con!" Dylan shouted again, voice rising.

"I tried to stop her, I swear!" Con replied.

"Hey, don't you shout at Con. It was you who was k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" Eloise laughed again, red hair flowing in the wind. Eowyn gasped when she said that, and Dylan angrily chucked a bunch of hay at her face.

"Oi!" Eloise laughed again.

"Stop it!" Dylan shouted in response.

In the midst of all the commotion, no one noticed Elgaide enter the scene.

"What have I stumbled into, sis?" he asked, announcing his presence.

Dylan was seriously angry now. Elgaide was the last person he wanted his secret to be known to, followed immediately by mother. That arrogant little kelp! He just couldn't help his anger when he saw his face, and the situation was much worse now. Dylan bustled with rage.

"Dylan and Eowyn were k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" Eloise sang again. Dylan had had it. He pushed Eloise hard and she fell.

Elgaide immediately went for his shortsword. It might have been ceremonial, but it was still metal and not wood like the practice swords they used. He pointed it to Dylan.

"You dare touch my sister!" Elgaide boomed.

Eloise's elbow had scraped against a rock, and it bled. Conler bowed down, tending it.

"Be calm, brother." Eloise started.

"No I shall not. He dares to harm the princess of Andor, his future queen! His liege! These Two Riverrun rabble ought to be taught a lesson!"

And saying so, Elgaide struck at Dylan. The eldest Aybara barely managed to dodge his sword, and then crawled away from a second blow.

"Elgaide!" Eloise screamed. Eowyn cried out for him to stop, but the First Prince came for the third blow, and Dylan lying on the ground had no way of dodging it.

But in a blur, Con had tackled Elgaide so hard, the sword flew from his hand, and he fell backwards on the pile of hay. Elgaide got on his feet immediately – he was experienced in bare-handed combat as well – but he hadn't anticipated Conler's beastial pace. Nor his strength. The first blow almost knocked Elgaide unconscious. He fell to the ground again and barely managed to raise his arm in defence in time, such was the savagery of Conler's attacks. Conler kept striking, blow after blow, and Elgaide soon realised his hand had snapped, but it was all he could do to keep Conler at bay. The agony was unreal, the cries from Eowyn unbelievable, and Dylan was in pure shock.

Eloise didn't know what to do, her hands on her head. "Light!" she said, but no one heard. Dylan recovered and jumped on Conler, trying to hold him back, but he was just too strong and threw Dylan away.

Something clicked in Eloise finally, and she screamed as she pointed both her palms towards Conler. A weave of Air blasted Conler into the wheat field, and he disappeared behind it. Eloise fell to her knees. Elgaide had finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Eowyn immediately knelt beside Dylan, who was massaging his head.

"What in Light was _that!_" Eloise screamed at Dylan.

"It's that bloody Elgaide's fault! What is wrong with him?" Dylan shouted back.

A gateway opened some distance away, and Seonid popped out.

"I told you, girl, do not let me catch you channeling again, did I not?" Seonid said, even as she stepped out of the gateway, before she looked at the scene in front of her. Elgaide lay at the center with an obviously fractured arm. Eowyn was still sobbing, and Dylan and Eloise were having a shouting contest.

"What did _you _do?" She asked of Eloise, a sinister voice.

"It wasn't me!" She answered, glaring at the Aes Sedai.

"Do not lie, child! I kept a tab on you specifically. It told me when you channelled, and you did channel just now!"

"It was Conler." Dylan whispered.

Seonid's eyes narrowed. She approached the unconscious Elgaide and placed a hand on his arm. The glow of saidar filled her, but only Eloise could see it. Seonid healed Elgaide, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Elgaide?" Seonid asked him softly, "What happened?"

"He … he had … golden eyes…"

Saying so Elgaide fainted again.

Seonid was visibly pale, but she looked at Eloise.

"Will he be fine?" The princess of Andor asked, shaken.

"Yes, he is just weak from the healing. Dylan, come with me, we must find your brother. As for you, Eloise, stay with Elgaide. And Eowyn, fetch the boy some water. Go now!"

Seonid then asked Dylan where Conler had gone to, and once he pointed towards the depths of the field, they disappeared behind it. Dylan was too fraught with worry to remember he had never managed to promise Eowyn anything.

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Author's note: Next chapter will have Androl and Pevara sharing some screen time again. This was supposed to be their adventure, am I right? Let me know what you guys think about the children and how natural their behavior is - **your feedback is highly appreciated. **Thanks guys, until next time.


	17. Of Family Matters

**Of Family Matters**

Androl was under the shade of a tree, quite blissfully napping away the noon. This was the only break he would get the whole day, having spent most of the morning with Grady finalising all the paperwork needed to be sent to the Guild of Merchants. Joaquin, the man in charge of the Guild (although the Guild of Merchants didn't have a leader per se, Joaquin Klagan was the closest that came to it - and he was a particularly shrewd and cold man. Pevara liked to describe him as the pale man - for he had a white face paler than a myrdraal.) would want to sit through every paragraph of the document, and no doubt, would drive a hard bargain. Joaquin Klagan wasn't a man who spent a single more penny than he had to - and as such Grady and Androl couldn't quite miss out on any detail. Of course, it was Yommen who had drafted the document in the first place, but considering his necessity to be with Lady Karina for the preparation of the shanna'har, he had delegated the task of proofreading to Androl. He had half a mind to let Pevara take care of the paperwork - she had a better mind for these things - but Androl remembered what he had said to Grady at the Winespring Inn. He couldn't be shirking off his duties, and that was that. So a half hour break, napping away under a tree in the manor grounds, was what Androl would get.

He felt Pevara approach him, and let out a contented sigh. Things would work out - Androl and Pevara together would make it so. Theonelle just couldn't be allowed to ascend the throne. He would never let the trade with Ashaman fall through; Theonelle was biased that way. The Black Tower would never let that happen - too much money was at stake. Several nations' economy was at stake.

Pevara loomed over his head, casting a stronger shadow than the tree did.

"You aren't asleep."

"No, I am not." Androl replied, his eyes shut and arms stretched behind him to form a pillow. Pevara adjusted her skirts as she sat down beside him.

_When Logain sent me for this mission, I didn't account for the paperwork. _Androl sent slyly.

Pevara mentally sighed. _I will go through the papers with you tonight._

Androl opened his eyes, blinked twice to adjust to the bright midday sun, then looked at Pevara's solid, beautiful face. Not many would call Pevara beautiful - but to him, she was stunning, and in this moment, with the sun dotting her face through the gaps between the leaves, in the gaps between the burdening work, through worries for the future and the past, even in the little breeze that blew wisps of Pevara's hair lazily like butterflies caught in the wind, Androl knew this was a sight he would take with him to his grave.

Pevara caught her breath; she looked slightly winded. Androl looked at her questioningly.

_Sometimes …. The emotions you feel can be quite intense. _Androl blinked up at her, then chuckled. Really, was his emotions that intense? He didn't know, but he reached out and cupped her face in his hand. Their eyes dug deep into each other's, pupils diluting. Androl didn't need to say a word, or send a mental note. She understood. Some powers were stronger than the Source, after all.

At the far end, the main gates of the manor opened. Pevara looked up, and Androl sat back, resting against the tree. In entered Seonid, in her arms a curled up sleeping Conler. She was followed by the children - Elgaide, who seemed in a daze, Eloise, hay sticking out of her hair, and Dylan, who looked rather worried. In itself, the sight was bizarre. For one, Seonid wasn't particularly motherly and for the life of her, Pevara couldn't imagine her carrying children against her bosom. And second, Seonid looked more worried than Dylan did.

An Aiel woman, Chiad was her name as Pevara had learnt, ran up to them. She took Conler in her arms and immediately went towards the main manors. Seonid looked about turning to find the Ashaman-Aes Sedai pair.

"Pevara! Could you come here please? Bring Androl as well." She called.

Pevara got up, and Androl followed.

Once they reached up to her, she pointed at the First Prince.

"Androl, could you delve him? I am sure I have healed his arm, but I just want to make sure."

"Sure," Androl replied to Seonid. He would ask what happened in its own time - right now she needed aide and an unspoken rule amongst the Ashaman was they never refused a request for help.

He delved the boy, but he seemed fine. Androl was immediately surprised by the amount of power the boy held - son of the Dragon Reborn indeed. Androl felt like he was holding a sa'angreal.

"He is completely fine, as far as I can tell, Seonid Sedai."

Seonid relaxed somewhat.

"Explaining this to the Queen would be a task." Seonid said, business like again, more to Elgaide and Eloise than to Androl.

"Could you watch over these two, Pevara?" Seonid asked. Pevara nodded. "Dylan, come with me. We need to report to your mother." And saying so, Seonid walked off with Dylan.

She halted mid-way though, turned to face Pevara again, then revised her request.

"Actually, it would be better if you two take them to the Queen." And then she was gone with the eldest Aybara children.

For a moment, Pevara and Androl stood awkwardly with the two children. Then Androl clapped his hands together.

"Well, shall we?" He asked.

The party walked a short way up the grass and proceeded to go down towards the guest manor where the Queen of Andor was taking residence. They passed the Aiel camp, several of the Wise Ones eyeing them as they walked past. Androl engaged with Elgaide in some small talk, but he wasn't being very responsive. Pevara eyed the future queen. She looked like she had been rolling around in the dirt.

"Elgaide and Dylan fought, did they?" Pevara asked softly, only to her. Androl and Elgaide continued walking in front.

Eloise nodded. It didn't take a lot to guess the enmity between the two boys. Pevara was glad she wasn't wrong.

"What happened?"

"It's just … " Eloise shook her head, and fell silent.

"Hmm," Pevara replied thoughtfully. Seonid had obviously asked the young girl to keep quiet regarding whatever had happened. Pevara was now greatly curious.

_Gather anything? _She sent to Androl.

_Nothing in particular. They are being quiet about it - guess Seonid asked them to?_

_Exactly what I was thinking._

They continued their walk.

_You remember we overheard that Aiel woman and the Aybara children talking? _Pevara sent pensively.

_Yes, she said something about 'it happening again'. You think there is something in that?_

_Could be, Androl. Whatever it is, Conler seems to be in the middle of it._

_Oh, Light, I hope the boy is alright._

_He seemed fine to me - just sleeping. _

Their mental conversation stopped there. They had reached the guest manor.

A servant opened the doors and they went up the stairs to the study where the Queen was sipping her wine. She was surrounded by her advisors and was in the middle of a heated debate when Androl and Pevara walked in with her children.

" - and I have said a hundred times, such an event would cause a public scandal. I cannot have my face on tomorrow's First Light front page with the title "The queen is bloody promoting slavery!" You goat-brained fools, if you had time to stop licking the hind of every Light forsaken Seanchan-loving - "

She noticed her children at that point, and cut her speech short.

"We will talk about this tomorrow." She motioned her advisors to leave, and they did so in quite a hurry. Must be hard on them, dealing with a queen who could use enough profanities to put a Murandian bar maid to shame.

Elayne got to her feet and looked with concern at her two children.

"Light, what happened? You two look like you had a tussle with a torm."

"It wasn't like that, mother." Elgaide began, but Eloise cut him short.

"It was exactly like that! Conler and I followed Dylan to this farm, and Elgaide followed us! I have no clue why he followed us!"

"As the First Prince, it is my duty to protect you at all cost, Eloise, and when I saw you with Conler, I was concerned - "

"Concerned? You just wanted to embarrass Dylan, just like you always do!"

"Preposterous," Elgaide exclaimed. Androl and Pevara could only stand there and watch.

"Silence!" Elayne boomed. "Eloise, tell me what happened."

Eloise fidgeted a bit, then with an angry glare for Elgaide, she proceeded.

"Me and Conler saw Dylan leaving the manor. I was just playing, and thought to join up with Dylan, so we went after him. We went so far as Watch Hill, to a farm in Westwoods, and Dylan was talking with Eowyn - "

"Who?" Elayne asked her daughter, bewildered.

"Just a farm girl," Elgaide said offhandedly.

"A girl Dylan takes a fancy to. And I was teasing him about it," Eloise said over Elgaide again, "and Dylan got angry. But it was just teasing and nothing more. Then Elgaide came out of nowhere - he must have followed us. He started hitting Dylan with his sword!"

Elayne paled. "You harmed the boy?" She asked her son.

"No, it wasn't like that, mother. I didn't harm him, I didn't even touch him. It was Dylan who harmed Eloise, and I took charge as the First Prince - "

"Oh light, will you give it a rest, you lummox!" Eloise exclaimed.

"Eloise, don't call your brother names" Elayne sighed, exasperated. _The Queen has her hands full, eh? _Androl sent.

_Maybe we should leave? _Pevara asked.

_Yeah, but I don't see how. I don't think the queen even realises that we are here in the room._

Androl was probably right, for Elayne held her hand to her forehead.

"So you," Elayne asked referring to Elgaide, "took your sword to Dylan Aybara?"

"I did not hurt him. It was Conler who hurt me!"

"Yeah well, fat surprise after you took your sword to an _unarmed _Dylan!" Eloise yelled back.

Elayne sank back into her chair.

"Mother, it was Conler who attacked me. He broke my arm! Am I not at least owed an apology? Conler should - "

"Eloise, once we are back in Caemlyn, you are forbidden to leave your rooms for a month. No prancing about the streets for you."

Elayne said, her voice drawling with tiredness.

"Mother!"

"There was no need to tease the boy. A lady doesn't tease. As for you, Elgaide."

She straightened her back and looked her son straight in the eye.

"The First Prince took his sword against an unarmed boy, son of a man who has sworn fealty to me. Dylan is one of our people, Elgaide, people that you have sworn to protect. A sword, against an unarmed boy."

Again Elayne held her head, as if in pain.

"He hurt Eloise!" Elgaide protested.

"And you think Eloise cannot protect herself? No, don't say it is your duty as a First Prince, don't. You know what really disappoints me? You are already aware that you are a better swordsman than Dylan, and yet you chose to hurt him, when he was unarmed no less. There is little that is more dishonourable than that. If your father was here … "

Elayne looked to the south, her eyes losing focus just for a second.

"I do not know how I have managed to raise a brat and a bully."

Elgaide looked down. Eloise stood there in anger. There was dead silence in the room. Pevara cleared her throat loudly.

"I think we should take our leave, Elayne Sedai." Pevara said. Elayne blinked and nodded. Seems Androl was right; she had indeed forgotten they were even there in the room.

"Thank you, Pevara Sedai, Ashaman Androl, for bringing them here. Have a good day."

Androl closed the door behind them.

In the main manor, where the wolfhead banner rippled high, Seonid was sitting at the edge of a bed. Conler slept in the bed, quite soundly by the looks of it. Faile paced the room, her thin dark skirts swishing about angrily.

"As I feared, his interaction with the wolves is much stronger now."

Seonid fiddled about with a collection of ter'angreal, twisting each one to some degree.

"God, I can only imagine how angry the queen must be for breaking the prince's arm."

"The wolf was in control, not the boy." Seonid said calmly.

"The boy and the wolf are the same." A huge figure entered the room through the shadows. Perrin Aybara's beard was much longer and well-kept than eleven years ago.

"What can we do, husband? Obviously he cannot go to Saldea now. Maybe send for Elyas? He could train Con once he wakes up - "

"He won't be waking up, not on his own, anyway."

A shudder went through both Seonid and Faile's backs. Perrin's deep voice had a sinister quality.

"He is in tel'aran'rhiod. And I will go get him back."


	18. An Aiel in the Negotiations

Author's notes: All I can say is that I am sorry for having delayed this chapter so long. I have been pushed with a lot of work, and have been simultaneously studying for my Masters. Life is tough right now, but trust me, I am addicted to the Wheel of Time, and more addicted to writing. So the chapters will keep coming out. As I have said before, I have three story arcs planned for 'The adventures of Androl and Pevara'. This is the Saldean Succession Arc and it will probably go well into 25+ chapters. So its a long ride, but I will keep at it, with a new chapter every now and then. In the next story arc, you will see a lot of Matrim Cauthon, just something to keep you guys reading ahead. Alright, enjoy!

* * *

**An Aiel at the Negotiations**

Padra of the Taardad Aiel had in recent months experienced the wetlander custom for celebrating one's birth day. She was all of nine now, tall, with mellow red hair and fierce gray eyes, and a hard jaw she had inherited from her father, the Dragon Reborn. Her mother was a Wise One, and had been for as long as Padra could remember, and her wisdom was considered second to none. Padra's mother, Aviendha, presently was busy at Rhuidean, probably undertaking some clan business Padra was not privy to. Instead, Aviendha had asked her daughter to make her way with the Taardad Aiel, into the wetlands.

"Padra, child, it is time to expand your view of the world." That was all her mother had said. She suspected the only reason Amys and the other Wise Ones let her ride with them was because her mother had asked them to. The Aiel had immense respect for mother, Padra knew.

In the wetlands, things were not the same. Oh, people still treated her differently, but the wetlanders, it seemed, had another reason. The wetlanders had immense respect for her father.

"I suppose you never knew the Dragon." The Aes Sedai was saying. Padra was just guarding the throne room door where the Council of Lords were discussing affairs of the day when this Aes Sedai had popped up. She now stood there, contemplating Padra with that ageless face. "A great figure to be sure. People credit him for winning us tarmon'gaidin, which is nothing to take lightly, of course. Without a doubt it is a great achievement. But I believe his greatest achievement was enforcing the Dragon's Peace."

The Aes Sedai councellor looked at Padra's frown.

"Do you know what that is, girl? The Dragon's Peace?"

"It's a legal document binding all the lords of the nations to their lands, and prohibiting any form of invasion." Padra replied, studiously.

"It does a little more than that, but essentially you are right." The Aes Sedai smiled good-naturedly. "It was your father who did that. Does that make you proud?"

"Not particularly," Padra replied earnestly. "Seems to me it would be the same if it hadn't been my father who did it. I never knew my father so… hard to feel proud of someone you never knew."

"Interesting," the Aes Sedai said. Padra noticed she wore a brown shawl.

The doors to the throne room opened slowly, creaking. A flood of people escaped out into the hallway, followed by the lords, all still discussing under hushed voices. One of the ladies, the only one who had an Asha'man advisor, looked at her.

"Hullo, Padra. The meeting's over, no need to guard the door."

"As you say, my lady."The honorific came out forced out of an unused tongue. Karina smiled.

"Come here, Padra." Karina held her hand open. Padra didn't outright take it, but then thought it might be rude not to. _It is time to expand your view on the world._

Karina led her to the side, Yommen following behind slowly.

"You have such beautiful eyes, Padra. And such color to your hair." Karina was smiling.

Padra didn't know how to respond to that. She just stayed still. She noticed the Asha'man. He seemed so sure, so confident. Did the one power make one so? The Asha'man was calm and collected. Even the Aes Sedai she had met before had that sheer sense of surety. Padra wanted to feel so sure as well. She often wondered how Aiel was she.

"Yommen, don't you think she has a lovely face."

"Indeed," he replied. He did not smile, but his eyes were kind.

"I was thinking you would look just heavenly with a proper dress. Would you like that?" Karina asked.

"A dress?" Padra asked, bewildered.

Karina pushed her hair back, then stood tall, swishing her skirts left and right in a wide arc. Yommen bowed his head low, a slow nod of appreciation to Karina's display.

"A dress, Padra, yes, a dress!" Karina said excitedly, giving her skirt an extra swirl.

"I don't really have a use for one. I am a maiden of the shield and … "

"Pah! It's the shannahar tomorrow, Padra! You will need a dress!" Karina insisted.

"I am on duty tomorrow, my lady."

Karina's lips curled to the side, displeased.

"I am Karina, just call me that. This here is Yommen. He is a bit slow, slightly dumb, don't mind him." Yommen to her side frowned at her.

"And," Karina continued, "do you think I wear dresses for show? Even I am on duty, and aren't I wearing a dress?"

"With all due respect, I am a warrior." Padra said bluntly.

Karina pulled her skirt up in response, displaying a long shapely bare leg. A long knife was clasped to her thigh. Yommen pointedly avoided looking at it, red in his cheeks.

"I am too" Karina replied haughtily. "a dress wouldn't make you any bit less a warrior. It might make you a bit more womanly though."

Padra blushed at that. She didn't have manly features, Padra was in fact sure she was rather pretty, but regardless the insinuation wasn't lost to her.

"If nothing else, take it as a souvenir. To remember Saldea by." Yommen said slowly.

Padra finally nodded, and Karina clapped her hand together excitedly.

"Alright then, let's go shopping!"

Twenty minutes later, the trio found their way past the palace gates. The Aiel were present here in numbers. In fact, there were patrols out in the streets, even atop roofs. People were allowed to gather and protest, as per Karina's request, but any sign of violence was instantly quenched. As such, within having traversed two lengths of a street, Karina, Yommen and Padra had past three gatherings of men shouting and raising signs calling for the Queen's presence, or demanding she step down from her throne. Mostly it was shouts asking the Queen's aid in the farms in the north. It was amazing how Theonelle had transferred all the blame to Faile. The people were now too invested in Theonelle's narrative. Thank the light, at least nothing had progressed to outright riots. Not with so many Aiel, and the many armies gathering outside the city walls as they walked.

Karina stopped at a rather large shop, the most expensive store in all of Maradon. The Queen herself had bought clothes from here in the past. They spent an hour shopping, and by the end of it, Padra was so tired she felt she would have nightmares of dancing the spear with silken dresses.

Karina was looking at Padra with a look of a scholar discovering a new species.

"What do you think, Yommen? The red, or the black?"

Yommen massaged his forked beard.

"Despite my bias to black, I think the red looks better."

Padra stood at a raised platform, covered in a blood red dress, almost darker. She looked rather good, Padra noted looking at the mirror. Her waist felt constricted and the collar almost felt like it was strangling her, but she looked good. She doubted she had ever looked better, and feared she was a wetlander after all.

"Yes, yes, this does look good on you, dear." Karina smiled.

Several minutes later, the dress was paid for and Padra held the length of the silk into a jute bag.

"You happy?" Karina asked.

"Quite, lady Karina." Padra replied grudgingly. Karina nodded happily to herself and started walking towards the south.

"Oh, yes, Padra, we have some work with the Guild of Merchants. Would you like to accompany us?" Karina asked offhandedly, not even looking at Padra as she walked towards her coach. Two horses neighed in front of it.

"You could watch our backs." Yommen winked at her.

Padra shrugged and hopped on board.

The Guild of Merchants was situated at the opposite end of the palace, and their building looked almost like a tavern, albeit an extremely large one, with not so dirty walls. Everything else seemed the same, long tables full of men talking in hushed tones, or shouting over papers (not unlike shouting over cards). A smell very distinct of old ale clung to the air. The only difference was all the men here carried themselves with a sense of superiority.

Karina marched right in without a care in the world, as if she belonged there. Which she very well might have, with the looks that were shot in her direction. It seemed to Padra that Karina was known in these circles.

She walked straight to the grand desk at the center, where three clerks looked over various documents. Karina tapped her hand twice on their table, loudly.

"Where is Joaquin Klagan?" She demanded. Asha'man Yommen was scratching his beard again, and Padra got this weird sensation of a fight creeping on.

From an overhead balcony, an extremely pale man (in fact he had white hair, and a white face, an albino) peered down.

"Ah, lady Karina!" His voice echoed in the hall. "Please come up."

Karina marched on ahead, and Yommen and Padra found themselves on the verge of racing to keep up with her. She opened the door with grace, revealing Joaquin Klagan just about to take a seat. Karina slapped a letter from her pouch on top of his desk. She then proceeded to sit back on the comfortable seat facing Klagan, crossing her legs snappily.

Yommen sat beside her, slowly, and Padra had to take a seat to her right.

"You have met Yommen before. That is Padra al'Thor, Klagan." Karina said, as a servant poured her some wine.

The merchant looked at Padra. He had a white pencil moustache adorning his white face. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. Padra did not miss the way Karina used her father's name.

"Ah, the lord Dragon's daughter. It is a grand pleasure to be sharing your presence, your majesty." He said bowing extremely low.

_Your majesty? _Karina's eyebrows shot up. She had known Klagan was a dragonsworn, but to this extent, she could not have imagined. The entire point of bringing Padra here was for that sweat that Klagan kept furiously mopping away.

"What is the meaning of that letter, Joaquin?"

"My lady – "

"Drop the façade, Joaquin. You knew my father all his life."

"Karina," Joaquin Klagan said slowly, "All I meant from that letter was that some finer points of the trade network needed to be discussed. That is all."

"What finer points, Joaquin?" Karina said with a glare.

"Look, you must understand, this is about trade. As simple as it gets."

"No, I do not understand, Joaquin, please elaborate."

The merchant sighed.

"Tar Valon has just announced an additional surcharge for trading goods through Saldean ports. Something to do with services tax, additional duty charge may also be applied."

"How much?" Yommen asked. He seemed extremely disturbed.

"As much as seven marks per crate."

There was silence in the room.

"Why – " Yommen started, but then stopped. His eyes now held rage. There was silence once again.

"Look," Karina began, "with this trade with Carhein, we shall get a lot of high in-demand goods. We can simply trade in the Two Rivers – the market is huge there."

"Yes, but Tar Valon? You cannot say we should drop the trade with the biggest city in the world? No, the entire point of getting those goods from Carhein is to sell it in Tar Valon. That is where we make the most profits. It is simply not sustainable otherwise."

"Even with the Black Tower's aide? They are providing gateways for transport, man!" Karina said, raising her voice.

"We need wagons, many of them. These goods are delicate as well. This isn't cheap, even with gateways. Unless your Asha'man is proposing carrying every crate by the One Power, it is simply not feasible. I will not make a trade where there isn't any profit."

Karina threw her hands up in the air, standing up and prancing about the room.

"You wouldn't say no to her," Karina said, pointing at Padra. The little girl just blinked and shook her head in disbelief.

"Don't make me choose between my beliefs and my life, Karina." Klagan had a hard look in his face.

"There is only one option, the way I see it." Klagan continued as if Karina hadn't just suggested what she had, "Tar Valon will not let me trade using Saldean sails. If the Black Tower will allow gateways from Carhein to Tar Valon, directly, instead of bringing the goods here to Maradon. Well, we could make more money that way even."

Karina looked at Klagan.

"What! That solves everything! We need your support for the Queen to keep her throne, and we can make more profits this way as well? Would solve the farmer's strike. This is perfect! Two birds with one stone!"

But Yommen stood up, his hands curled up in a fist.

"If we directly trade with Tar Valon instead of Maradon, the Black Tower stands to gain nothing." He said in a soft voice. Dangerous voice.

"What are you saying, Yommen? The Black Tower will be compensated, of course – "

"We are not your errand boys, woman." Yommen glared at Karina. The lady looked shocked. Yommen never talked to her that way. Never.

"No, Tar Valon will gain all the control, on a trade network I worked so hard to establish. My trade network! This cannot happen." Yommen said, more to himself than anyone else in the room.

"Then we are in disagreement." Klagan summarized.

"Yommen…" Karina began, "this has to happen. Faile needs the Guilds support for securing the throne. Saldea needs their queen. Saldea – "

"I don't give a flaming left goat's cheek about Saldea." It wasn't clear to Padra whether Yommen regretted the words he just said, but she knew it was something he shouldn't have said in Karina's presence. She stood there as if slapped. Yommen seemingly didn't care, for he stormed out of merchant's study, much the same way Karina had stormed in.

Padra got up too.

"I have decided not to keep the dress after all, lady Karina."

She dumped the jute bag full of the silken dress on to Karina's lap. She wasn't really a wetlander, and didn't want to be one.


	19. Into the Wolf Dream

**Into the Wolf Dream**

Elgaide wasn't used to being thrown to the ground, especially not in the manner that he had just been subjected to. If only he had a sword on him at a time like this - but no, he was the son of the Dragon Reborn. Hands couldn't defeat him, and yet his bleeding cut lip said otherwise. Elgaide raised his arm to protect his ribs, anticipating Dylan's next blow - but Dylan rounded his leg upwards. His feet connected his chin. Elgaide fell on the ground again, this time not ready to get back up.

Dylan's face was pure fury. Elgaide was surprised at how good Dylan was at hand-to-hand combat. No wonder he was trained by an Aiel - he wondered whether he should find himself an Aiel trainer as well, even as he spat blood and got back on his feet. If there was one thing the first son of the Dragon Reborn knew, it was that he didn't know how to stay down.

"By the Light!" Dylan screamed, racing at him again. Dylan looked happy that Elgaide was back on his feet - happy to pummel him some more.

Elgaide quickly brought his fists up - but again Dylan Aybara was too quick for him. _Bloody Aiel techniques, how do I counter that? _Dylan's fist connected his temples and blood rushed to his head. For a moment it was all white, and when vision returned to Elgaide, he found himself back on the ground.

"Fight me with a sword, you coward!" Elgaide's raspy voice barely escaped his mouth.

Dylan grabbed his collar in response and stood over him.

"You call me a coward? After you took your sword to attack me, you light forsaken lump of goat droppings!"

And so Dylan proceeded to punch his face - once, twice, thrice, before he was literally hoisted off the ground.

Perrin Aybara picked up his son off Elgaide like a wolf picking up its cubs. His expression was of disappointment and annoyance. He pushed Dylan off to the side, and when he made to rush at Elgaide again, Perrin simply rested one giant hand on his son's shoulder.

Perrin extended an arm to Elgaide and brought him back to his feet.

"What happened to Conler was unfortunate, but it is something I will take care of. Dylan, you need to learn how to calm your temper. This kind of behaviour will not be tolerated. Do you understand me, boy?" Perrin's booming voice commanded obedience.

"Now we are in Saldea, and we need to be careful. Best not people see this debacle. If you boys cannot be civil to each other, I suggest you go on your separate paths. Is that clear?"

The two boys mumbled under their breath.

"Dylan. Am I being perfectly clear?" His golden eyes could not be lied to.

"Yes, father."

"Then leave."

Dylan left, pushing through the tent flaps. Perrin looked at the First Prince of Andor.

"Thank you," Elgaide felt the need to say.

"I have met many arrogant brats, boy, and all of them have found their way beaten on the ground, one way or the other."

Elgaide bristled hearing that.

"How… How can you call me an arrogant brat! I am the First Prince - "

"Do you think I somehow forgot who you are, boy?" Perrin gave him a level look.

"My mother - "

" - is an arrogant brat too. You can tell her I said that."

Elgaide was silent. He didn't sense any animosity from the man, despite his words. He wasn't looking for a fight. _He is just saying it as it is. _Elgaide also understood this wasn't a man he could boss around - nor would he tolerate nonsense of that sort.

"Your mother was a real pompous arrogant woman - but she learned, and then she changed. You can, too. There is a big difference between ego and honour, boy, big difference, indeed. And they rarely go hand-in-hand. Regardless of what you choose, know this. What happened with Conler wasn't your fault. Don't beat yourself to it."

Saying so Perrin left the tent as well.

Elgaide limped out of the tent. It was early morning hours in Saldea - and it was terribly cold. Elgaide had just come to the latrines of the camp after awaking from the cold, when he had stumbled into Dylan. There were a thousand or so soldiers gathered in this camp, as a ceremonial assembly for the Queen. There were camps like this all around the field outside the walls of Maradon; flags of Carhein flew from one, the golden crane of Malkier, the flag of Tear and Arad Doman. All the Borderland royalty had gathered, of course, but even Illian had made an appearance - astonishing this far north.

Stumbling into Dylan with his breaches barely tied properly had been, perhaps, the most embarrassing thing Elgaide had been subjected to in his life. And then Lord Aybara's appearance was - it was something. He entered the tent he was searching for (after fumbling through various tents - one of which had been Aiel, and the men laughed at seeing his beaten up face. Aiel humour was beyond him.) and found Eloise awake in her bed robes.

"Oh, Light, did you just dance with a lion? What happened to your face?"

"Can you heal me, Eloise?"

Eloise sniffed, then sat across him. She placed her palm on his forehead.

"Was it Dylan?" She asked.

Elgaide didn't respond.

"Hope you didn't hurt him. Light, do you really have no brains, Elgy? Just try not getting into fights - how is it so hard?"

Again, Elgaide didn't respond.

"So Conler hasn't woken up, I gather?" She asked, as the glow of Saidar enveloped her. When Elgaide remained silent, she just put her hands up in frustration.

"You know, I have heard mother whisper how if we had a father, we would have turned out better. But honestly, we have made it fine with or without him. Or so I like to think. I don't have any pent up rage or anything like that. Having said that,"

Eloise gave her brother a long look.

"Elgaide, if there is anything you would like to talk about, you know I am there for you, right?"

Silence again. Elgaide just poured himself some water, gulping down the glass in a hurry.

"Why are you so angry all the time, Elgy?" Eloise asked, pleadingly.

"I don't know." Elgaide responded truthfully. He made for the tent flaps, then turned.

"I had a talk with Lord Aybara."

"Really?" Eloise said, surprised, "He never talks to us. I thought he was kind of shy. And scary."

"I think… He isn't like the other nobles in Caemlyn." Elgaide said, struggling to find the words.

"Like how? He is a Two Riverrun, maybe that's what it is. You know how these small town people are like - "

"I don't know, I don't mean like that. He is different. He said that I shouldn't blame myself for what happened to Conler."

There was a silence. Elgaide looked at his sister, who looked away. By just a tiny fraction, but enough. Elgaide found that immensely contradicting. His own sister obviously blamed him for what happened to Conler, but the father of the victim did not. He didn't know what to make of that.

"Well, do you?" Eloise asked.

"Do I what?"

"Blame yourself?"

Now that was a question that really mattered, Elgaide realised.

* * *

Perrin walked through the camp with a certain pace. He was instantly recognisable. Men and women bowed when he passed them by, regardless of their nationality or allegiance. He was a living legend to most men who had lived through the Last Battle. Perrin usually acknowledged every bow and every nod, but today he rushed to his tent. Today was a day for the wolf.

His wife sat at the edge of their bed, Conler resting in the middle.

"Perrin," Faile said.

"Conler is fading away, Aybara. He may enter the dream in the flesh."

Seonid, ever business-like, today had a shake in her voice. Grady was sitting in a chair in the corner, hands on his forehead, helplessness clear in his face. Beside him, Gaul sat on the ground, still and expressionless.

"Waiting wasn't a good idea," Seonid continued.

"No matter, now. I will search for him. I am going to the wolf dream in the flesh."

"Is there no other way?" Seonid asked him. "Maybe if we used these ter'angreals I have to send him another message…"

"We have tried it, and it has failed." Faile broke her long silence.

"Con is in the dream too strongly, I must go now."

That quiet statement from Lord Aybara was enough. Gaul stood up from the corner.

"I will accompany you, Perrin Aybara."

"There is no need, Gaul." Perrin replied calmly.

"Perhaps not. But if I had trained Dylan better, he would not have feared to take on a man with a sword. I have _toh."_

Perrin knew better than to object any further. You don't mess with an Aiel's _toh._

"Then Grady, we would need you to open the gateway Rand taught you. The gateway into the wolf dream."

Grady immediately got on his feet, glad to be of use. He loved the boys as much as Gaul did. He opened a gateway in the middle of the tent. The carpet sliced, and the gateway expanded. Perrin and Gaul stepped into now familiar uncertain territory.

* * *

Conler didn't know what had happened to Emond's Field. The town was never this empty, but that was beside the point. People kept shifting in and out in the markets. That scared Conler, so he kept to the town walls. He had spent the last night (Was it night? By the hours passed, it should be day, but the night sky never passed) in the mansion. It had been completely empty, except for servants appearing out of nowhere and disappearing.

Everything about this town was surreal, and that caused Conler to panic. He was sure he had seen Master al'Vere yesterday and he had recognised him. Just when Conler ran up to him, he vanished into dust. What's more, the wolves never stopped howling. The entire night they howled. Today Conler had seen wolves prowl in the streets. Conler hid himself - he was afraid of them. They had entered the Green with their noses in the air, as if searching for something. Conler had a strange feeling that they were searching for him.

Conler ran on top of the town wall. He didn't know what else to do. He was scared to leave the town, but at the same time, scared to stay. The town wall served as a great metaphor for his indecision. What had happened here? The air smelled different too, stale, old. As Conler ran thinking these thoughts, suddenly the wall shifted, and Conler started to fall down a height of sixty feet. But the wall shifted back in place the next second and Conler stumbled and simply fell on his face on the floor of the wall. Heart racing from that near death experience, Conler remained on the ground, sitting up slowly.

He looked towards his home. The wolf flag rippled in the air unnaturally. The streets were empty. His temples sweating, Conler pushed himself up. When he looked at the Wolf Manor again, it was now a cave, and one of the wolves that had prowled into the city sat there, looking at him.

Conler yelped, fearful of the worst. He ran towards the closed gate, racing his way down the stairs. The gate had a mechanism to open it, and Conler did not know how to operate it. Thinking about the dilemma he was in for a while, he came to a conclusion - he gently pushed the gate. The giant gate opened at his touch. Delighted Conler started running.

Immediately Conler noticed how fast he was running now, faster, faster still. The woods flashed around him in two steps, and already he was halfway down the Quarry road towards Caemlyn. No wolf could keep pace with him, he was faster than the wind! This was exhilarating, he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, it seemed to him. He skipped and the world skipped with him – he _shifted _and now he was well into the Braem woods.

_You learn fast, Softpaws, but go steady or you will fall._

"What? Who was that?" Conler exclaimed when he heard that voice in his head. More than a voice – it was as if glimpses and visions combined together to form a sentence.

The fear coming back to him, Conler didn't wait for a response and _shifted _again. Now he was on Whitebridge (not in the town of Whitebridge, but quite literally on Whitebridge). He felt tired from all the running and planted his hands on his knees, breathing in and out, trying to calm himself. What was happening to him? He wanted to go home, but now he was unsure what that was. That wolf-den was his home? He had spent a day there he was sure, but neither his father nor his mother had called for him. That was just unnatural – mother would call for breakfast every morning and father would greet him and Dylan with a huge smile and a customary "Morning, young wolves." Not a single day had this not happened – except today. It was all wrong.

The Whitebridge was enormous, and spectacular to behold. The white road stretched on and on for such a long length, and a low mist covered the night to such a point, Conler could barely make out shapes of the town on the other side. Hence, it was no surprise that he hadn't seen the peddler sitting on his wagon until he approached close, a bell on his cart announcing his appearance. The mist subsided around the wagon, and a strange glow glittered the white bridge. The peddler stopped his horses once he saw Conler, raised a greying eyebrow, and then proceeded to step down from his wagon.

"Oi! Why are we stopping?" A woman stepped down from the back of the wagon as well. She was in her middle years, so was the man, and they had a kind and clean look to them, despite their dirty clothes.

"What are you doing here, son?" The man asked kindly. He had black hair, long and unkempt, and a beard too – much longer than his father's. Grey hair peaked out here and there, and the wrinkles against his eyes curled up in a kind smile.

"I don't know." Conler replied truthfully, "I don't even know where I am."

"Why, it's the Whitebridge, child." The woman said. She had an all knowing face and red hair, frail and greying.

"I know that it's the Whitebridge!" Conler snapped back, "I mean where is this? This place? Strange things are happening all around me, people disappear all the time and bloody wolves are after me – "

"What's that?" The man asked him.

"Wolves! Big wolves – "

"Big wolves?" The man echoed.

"Yes, wolves," Conler repeated, exasperated.

"What's your name, child?" The woman asked.

Conler took in her brown blouse and white skirts, and the cloth wrapped around her red hair. And the accent she used.

"Are you an Aiel?" Conler asked, pretty much convinced. It was strange though. Aiel didn't sit at the back of a wagon and they generally didn't travel with a wetlander. For the man next to her was definitely a wetlander.

"I am." She said levelly. "Now, what is your name, child?" She asked again.

"Conler," he replied.

"Ah, Perrin's youngest. That explains it." The man said, more to himself, scratching his beard. Conler's eyes narrowed. He had never heard anyone say his father's name with that much familiarity – except mother and Queen Elayne, of course.

"You know my father?" Conler asked. The man chuckled. He knelt before Conler, his face now eye-level with him. Conler noticed he had extremely blue eyes – but more shocking, he noticed his right eye had a strange mark. The Dragon's mark swirled in his eye.

"Who are you?" Conler rephrased his question. The man smiled kindly.

"Just a sheepherder. But the more important question to ask here is who are you, Conler?"

Conler mused over the question for some time. He was Conler Aybara, that was who he was. What a ridiculous question. He was about to say so to the man, but the old woman suddenly turned to look towards the west.

"A wind blows, sheepherder. My time will come soon."

The man called sheepherder chuckled again.

"Sit down, Nakomi, there is still a long time before the creator has a need for a champion."

"You cannot tell time any more than a Capar can. I tell you, sheepherder, my time is coming soon."

"But then again, a thousand years is soon for the creator." The man told her gently.

"Hmmpf," Nakomi said, then sat back down.

"Now Conler," the sheepherder said to him, "this isn't a safe place. Do you not wish to return to your mother and father?"

"Of course I want to!"

"Then go back the way you came." The old man said simply.

"But … "

"And be nicer to the wolves. Running away from them like that, no wonder their feelings are hurt."

"_Feelings?"_

"Oh yes, child," Nakomi said, "the land feels, the animals feel, and you feel too, yes?"

"And what perfect timing! Here they come. They are here to take you home, son." The old man exclaimed with delight.

Conler turned to look at the other end of the bridge. Three wolves slowly approached.

"Bloody!"

"Now, now, be nice." The old man reminded him.

"Show some decency to your kin," Nakomi sniffed angrily.

"_Kin? _They are wolves!" Conler exclaimed.

Nakomi gave him a quizzical look.

"So are you, child."

Conler looked down at himself. His fur was white, his fangs were sharp, his claws extended. He was still a cub, but a strong cub. A wolf.

_What is this? _Conler asked.

_Half of who you are, pup. _The wolf leading the three answered.

_Young Bull looks for you. Off you come now. _Another said. When he said Young Bull, the image of his father filled his head.

Conler's golden eyes looked at the sheepherder. He gave him a kind look back, and waved a hand to push him on.

_How do you know my father, master sheepherder? _Conler asked.

He laughed. "A story you already know quite well, dear Conler. Goodbye now."

Conler made towards the wolves, and when he looked back, the wagon was gone, the sheepherder was gone and Nakomi was gone. A glow remained where they were, glowing fireflies covered the ground where they stood.

Conler joined the three wolves, and the one in lead howled loudly into the sky. A moment later, there was a loud crack and Perrin and Gaul appeared.

"Conler!" Perrin yelled, hugging the white wolf cub.

Gaul looked at the fireflies at the other end of the bridge.

"Perrin Aybara, you must see this."

Perrin looked up to see the fireflies forming a strange pattern with darkness and light. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai.

"What … Conler did you meet anyone here?"

_Not really. Just a sheepherder. _Conler answered.


	20. A Trap for Wolves

**A Trap for Wolves**

Saldean mornings had a characteristic biting cold attributed to them, and when the freezing breeze grazed Dylan's bruised cheek, the ten-year old winced. An hour had passed since Dylan's fight with Elgaide and now the camp was well rising. Cookpots could be heard crackling all around, no doubt serving porridge from the smell of things, and the various roosters pecking the ground in between their cock-a-doodle-doo.

Dylan chosen to wear gloves this morning - his fingers had very poor habitability to such low temperatures, but more so than that, he couldn't possibly show himself at court with bruised knuckles. He wondered for a brief second how different would the Saldean High court be - surely, the difference between a lord's estate and a Queen's palace would be like night and day. He was aware that his mother was a queen, but he had never ever thought of her as anything but mother, maybe Lady Aybara at best - the last time Dylan had been in Saldea, he had been but a babe. But nervousness, for once, didn't have much room in his mind. At this moment, not only did his mother's lineage or kin mattered to him, the whole of Borderlands could forsake itself from the Light for all he cared.

He wanted to go home. Where things were better, where his brother was awake. Where Eowyn waited for him. Exasperated with these thoughts, Dylan walked across the camp. One particularly royal tent caught his attention for a brief second, the banner of the white lion of Andor flapped in the cold wind, but ignoring it, Dylan pushed on.

It had been two days since his brother had fallen to sleep. Mother worried sick, she had not left Conler's bedside in all that time. He had seen father only once, just this morning, when he had ripped him off Elgaide's throat. Dylan still had half a mind to beat that prince silly - but he was also sure Elgaide was sure to keep his sword on him at all times now. Dylan snarled at the thought.

Dylan reached the tent his parents shared. Two members of the Wolfgaurd stood tall next to the entrance, and upon seeing Dylan, they blocked his path.

Dylan looked at the two men incredulously.

"Caine, have you been drinking all night? You too, Briam? It is me, Dylan. Move aside!"

"Sorry, young lord," Caine said in a surprisingly soft voice. "The lady told us not to allow anyone inside."

"What, surely that is not applicable to me, man!" Dylan said, almost amused at the ridiculousness. How could Caine actually think his mother would stop him from visiting Conler. Had the man lost all sense?

"Especially you." said a voice from behind.

Dylan turned to see Seonid sedai shadowing over him. Livid, Dylan glared at her scrutinizing eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean? That is my brother!"

"Do not cause a scene, Dylan Aybara. It is not your place to question what your mother asks of you."

"Where is father? I want to have a word with him." Dylan asked, as calm as could be. He was at the seams of bursting out loud. But Seonid looked at him with an odd expression. A worried expression.

"He isn't here, child. No, I can see you want to argue, but I have not the time for this. Do as you are told, keep out of this tent."

"I - " Dylan started, clearly infuriated now.

"Trust me, Dylan Aybara, your brother's safety is all I have in my mind. Now go."

Dylan bit his lower lip, an involuntary action. Seonid sedai went inside the tent in a fluid motion, and through the momentary gap between the flaps, Dylan thought he saw his mother at the edge of Conler's bed. Dylan could be wrong, he was sure he was wrong, but for a moment it looked like there was no one in the bed.

* * *

"Father?" Conler said, as he saw his father, now back into his human form, sniffing at the spot where the ancient symbol had appeared. He had a puzzled look in his face.

Gaul had has hand on the shoulder of Conler, and looking down, Con saw he had returned to his human form as well. _Thank the light for that, _he thought. He stayed close to his uncle Gaul, for there were other wolves on the Whitebridge, circling him and his father.

"The wolves are not our enemy, Con" his father said, almost absentmindedly, his focus still on the symbol on the ground, glowing faintly, half in light and half in shadow.

The wolves certainly were not doing anything to harm them, and Conler finally relaxed, as much as he could in this wispy world of faded skies and winds that somehow seemed to blur the textures as it went past. The wolves seemed on edge, Conler noticed.

"Uncle Gaul?" Conler whispered, watching his father a bit further away, now inspecting the ground.

"Yes, Conler Aybara?"

"Where are we?" the boy asked earnestly.

"In between the waking world, and the dreaming one." Gaul replied. He had his veil raised, and that worried Conler quite a bit. He had never seen how dangerous his uncle could look.

"This is so strange, so so strange! I was with Dylan, I remember that! And Eloise was teasing him, and then Elgaide came. I was at a wheat farm! Uncle Gaul how did I come here? I don't understand anything."

"All in good time, young one." Gaul said dismissively, "Perrin Aybara. What do we still search here now? It is time to go."

Perrin looked at his friend. He looked at his son next.

"A sheepherder you said. Conler? Are you sure?"

"Yes, father, I am sure. I … He had a wagon. He had sheep in the wagon, I am sure. I … I could _smell_ them. And there was a woman with hi - "

Perrin looked at his son intently.

"A woman? What sort of woman?"

"I - I don't know, da."

"Short in height? Had a blue gem of sort in her hair?"

"No, I think she was Aiel." Conler said, trying to explain.

"Aiel?" Perrin and Gaul echoed.

"Yes," Conler said, "She was dressed like a wise one. She called herself Nakomi."

The two adults shared a look, confused.

"I know of no such Aiel woman, but I cannot claim to know all wise ones in the Waste."

"And the man himself?" Perrin asked, "How did he look? Tall, red hair?"

"No," Conler testified again, "Black hair. And his eyes were really strange - they had the shape of, well, the dragon's fang."

Perrin blinked.

"I know what you think, Perrin Aybara, but it does not sound like it was him. Perhaps just a dream."

"Perhaps," Perrin replied to Gaul.

"All the more reason for us to leave."

Perrin finally agreed. "Let us go," he said, but right then, the wolves around him started to howl.

_Danger, Young Bull!_

Unnoticed by most, four men had entered the circle, knives raised up in the sky. Somehow they had masked their smell - it was possible here - and that thought was even scarier, for that meant someone had sent Gray men after Perrin, knowing full well of his abilities, in the world of dreams. This thought, however dreadful, lasted not but a second, and then Perrin Aybara let out a howl, his warhammer Mah'alleinir appearing in his hands as he crushed the first gray man's skull with it.

Gaul responded only a second later, his spear in his hand stabbing the eye of another, even as his spear changed into a bow in mid combat, letting loose two arrows, before turning into a knife as he fell into close quarters with the third gray man. Perrin and Gaul fought like one, the wolves aiding their deadly duet, and within the span of minutes, four shadowspawn lay at their feet.

Panting, Perrin exclaimed, "What in the name of light! Gray men? In Tel'aran'rhiod?"

"This is not right, Perrin Aybara."

_The air itself smells wrong, Young Bull. _

Perrin nodded. "Conler?"

The lord turned to see his son nowhere around.

* * *

"Father!" Conler screamed again, but no sound would escape his mouth. He could not understand what had happened. All he could see was blackness. Such utter blackness. _Have I turned blind? _That was genuinely what it felt like. Pitch, wherever he tried to look, just pitch.

One moment he was on Whitebridge, and then the wolves had howled, so loud he thought he would go deaf. And then - blackness. It was as if a veil of utter shadow had fallen over his eyes. He could hear nothing, say nothing, see nothing. _Have I finally turned insane?_

Through the dark, he saw a figure in black. For a moment, Conler was glad to see something, anything, but then the figure dressed in black leather, a shade of black that glistened in the dark, approached closer.

It was a woman, but her nails were as long as the knives Uncle Gaul had on him, her straight black hair open and flowing behind her like the train of the dresses Queen Elayne would wear to the ball. But most strikingly, her face - her face was no face. Blacker than what the figure was dressed in, at first Conler thought it was a mask, but slowly he realised it was unnatural black skin, and it had no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just a plain blackness. Clicking her nails, the figure approached Conler, even as the boy tried to scream.

"There is no escape." A voice filled Conler's mind. Unnatural - no human sounded like this, but it wasn't the visions that the wolves communicated in either. It was something more sinister.

"NO! Let me go…" Conler begged, without a voice.

"There is no escape." It repeated.

"My father … he will come for me! He will - "

"No one can find you here. There is no escape." It said, "But that insolent pup shall try. Oh, he shall try. That is what I am banking on. He will not leave the dream until he has found his runt." She placed her sharp fingernails dead centre on Con's forehead. Blood trickled down the boy's eyes.

"But he will not find his runt, so he will not leave the dream."

And then the woman or creature in black tilted her head. And Conler knew it was smiling.

No scream escaped him.


	21. Talons Out, Fangs Bared

**Talons Out, Fangs Bared**

Theonelle busied himself tying his breaches up. From his chambers, he could see beyond the walls of Maradon. The flags of the different nations rippled in the wind. The closest banner would be the golden crane of Malkier, and he thought that was one of the many complications he did not need right now.

Theonelle had been a couple years younger when he had met the Queen of Malkier. She was fond of travelling quite a bit, and made it a point to visit her fellow Borderland nations frequently, and on one such visit, she had come to the Council of Lords - a simple greeting, true, but of much political significance. Theonelle, of course, had made a point of offering Queen Nyanaeve a tour of the palace. Words in passing could have great results, he was well aware, and it served him to have some measure of favour from a Queen. Not to mention a Queen who had been the adviser to the Dragon Reborn himself, an Aes Sedai of a very high standing (given the way his own Aes Sedai adviser scurried to do Nyanaeve's bidding) and the primary contributor to the Cleansing of Saidin - which further garnered her respect from the Asha'man. Theonelle was of course not shocked that he had been at awe with her the first time he had laid eyes on her. Perhaps her regal beauty had something to do with it as well.

So yes, he had offered to show the Queen around the palace of Maradon, hoping in some way to increase his own influence. He had expected a polite refusal at best, truth be told, but something happened there that he had never anticipated. Nyanaeve dismissed him. Not even a look, not even any indication that she had heard him - she just proceeded away, a complete dismissal of his offer, totally and utterly ignored. As if he did not even exist in her peripheral, as if a High Lord of Saldea did not deserve her attention. Her tall figure just walked away, and Theonelle was left standing like a fool in front of a full court.

The memory galled him so. No, not even Faile angered him the way the Queen of Malkier did. Faile was just a rival, someone to take their throne from, nothing more. But Nyanaeve? That woman he could do nothing about - and oh he hated her so. Sometimes his own loathing scared him - as if it wasn't his own.

"Come back to bed Theonelle, the morning is cold and your bed is still warm." A sweet voice said from behind. Clairr'ande lounged in his bed, covered only in the white sheets. Her simple brown hair curled around her oval face. Once a minor lady from Carhein, one that belonged to a House now in disfavor with the Queen of Andor, she now served to stay by him.

"I think not, Clairr'ande,"

"It is an important day for you." She said, a sly smile on her face.

Indeed it was. Today Queen Faile would finally present herself in court. With the ruse of a celebration, sure, but equally with an underhanded message.

"No, perhaps coming back to bed will not serve you," she said, her smile still like a vixen's. Theonelle enjoyed her curved smile quite a lot.

"You know what you have to do, yes, Theo?"

Clairr'ande was perhaps the most significant event that had happened to Theonelle. So adept at daes'dae'mar, a lot of the quick rise that Theonelle had experienced in the past months had come from her beautifully twisted brain. Using the farmers to cause an uprising against the Queen? Such a simple tactic, but oh so effective.

He still remembered the day she and him had been sleeping across each other, in the same bed, when she had uttered those words. "King Theonelle".

Theonelle still got goosebumps from that memory.

"I have to win."

Saying so, Theonelle proceeded to put on his green coat, ready for court.

* * *

Dylan had his manservant dressing him up in the most regal of gray coats, embroidered in silver with silver buttons. The coat had a high neck around which a white cloak with silver wolves stitched on to the fabric provided the much needed heat. He had decided to wear white gloves as well, more to hide his bruised knuckles than to protect him from the cold. His cheeks had been powdered, for once without complaint from the lordling, again for the same reason.

His mount had been brought outside his tent when the servants were done suiting him for the occasion. Seonid waited next to the horse.

"Now, Dylan, it is unforeseen," she said, as a servant helped him up on his horse. "But you are the future lord of the Two RIvers and the son of Queen Faile. You do not forget that, child."

"I shall not, Seonid sedai," Dylan said. His voice didn't sound completely convincing; the young boy surely felt the nerves of having to address a court full of High Lords, kings and queens.

"You are the prince of Saldea - you will address all lords from that position. You will be fine, child, chin up and back straight." Seonid emphasized, digging a hand roughly into his spine. Dylan winced as he bolted upright on his horse.

Dylan felt his nerves rise even more. His mother refused to leave Conler's tent and he could somewhat understand that. But his father's absence scared him - his father would always be by his side, his rigid support unbending, like a pillar that would support all his transgression. Lord Aybara not being there just added pressure on the ten year old boy - there would be no one to correct his mistakes today.

Why Conler had been absent from his bed, Dylan did not know. Why his father was gone, Dylan did not know. Why his mother refused to leave that tent, Dylan did not know. Even Uncle Gaul was not present by him. He has glad to have Seonid sedai mounting her horse next to his, reassuring feeling quickly died when he passed all the other Kings and Queens and lords to head up the procession. Queen Elayne was at the start of the procession; her radiant smile did nothing for Dylan today. Elgaide and Eloise were of course riding behind their mother. Auntie Nyanaeve was there as well, with King al'Lan Mandragoran, looking almost like a stone statue. Zakere, their son, was a couple years older than Dylan, but he had always been nice to him and he made a point to meet his eyes and smile.

"How goes, cuz?" He said lightheartedly. He could be pompous at times, Dylan thought, but he always addressed him as his cousin rather than a prince addressing another. Dylan nodded to him as he continued ahead.

The Aiel who had come all the way from the Two Rivers filtered through the crowd, Carheinin flags littered the sky, even a High Lord from Tear was present. All the Borderland nation leaders formed behind Dylan, Queen Nyanaeve and Queen Elayne. A loud horn blasted against the wind.

The march to Maradon began.

* * *

Padra al'Thor of the Nine Valley sept of the Taardad Aiel, a Far Daeris Mai, stood atop the palisades of the Maradon walls, watching the immense procession approach the gates.

"Wetlanders have no _ji, _they are like the sorda." Her friend was saying. Her veil was up, her eyes calmly addressing the soldiers marching forward. Padra only nodded - the memory of Lady Karina flashed in her eyes. The attempt to buy her, _buy her, _with a dress? Preposterous. And yet, in her mind, it was hard to say all wetlanders had no _ji. _She was not like her brother Janduin, she cared not about father one bit, Car'a'carn or no. Janduin, of course, put too much stalk in being the Dragon's son. And he hung around boys who gave too much stalk in such things as well. Padra had never cared to find out what her father had accomplished, apart from the few history lessons she had to take from the Wise Ones. Dragon Reborn, Car'a'carn, she cared not.

But he was a wetlander. And that made her a wetlander too.

Shaking her head, she resumed scanning the procession for potential threats. Surely, mother would not marry a wetlander without _ji. _The image of her in that blood red dress popped in her mind. It had been a beautiful dress, she had to admit grudgingly.

"Padra," Amys' voice called from behind, amidst the din of marching boots and horns blaring.

"Wise One" Padra said, standing up.

"Give us some space, Mifune," Padra's spear sister left immediately.

"Now," Amys said, her eyes gravitating towards her's, "Lady Karina sought me out earlier today. You have been avoiding her, she thinks."

It was true, the two times Padra had seen Karina in the hallways, she had quite frantically ducked from her side. She wanted nothing to do with her.

"She has no _ji_" Padra responded, recalling Mifune's words.

But Amys laughed.

"You are too young to understand ji'e'toh, child. I thought your mother sent you here to understand wetlander ways."

"Well, wise one, the ways of the wetlanders have no _ji_" Padra said stubbornly.

"She apologizes. She had to apologize to me since you would not meet her eyes. I wonder whether scorrning the repentant is the way of _ji_"

Padra scowled at Amys' words. She always had to be so difficult.

"Do you think when Aviendha sent you off here, to learn your father's side of the world, do you think she thought Padra would be hiding from every wetlander she would see?"

Padra winced now.

"Amys, she used me. She bought a dress for me with the farce of friendship, then used me as a tool to help in her negotiations! It is this exact deceptive beha - "

"Tell me, Padra, when you swore the oath to become Far Daeris Mai, did you not swore to become the spear?"

Padra stopped dead in her tracks.

"A spear is a weapon," Padra argued, albeit her voice down to a whisper.

"Just a tool," Amys said with a smile. "Go talk with Karina, child. Attend today's functions, learn what you can. Be a tool."

Saying so, Amys left a bewildered Padra behind.

* * *

_Do you need to chew so loud?_

Pevara asked, astonished at Androl who had just been reaching out for his third pastry. In his defense, they were truly tiny - some form of new trend amongst the nobles; Pevara liked to think of them as 'pretending life was as it was just before Tarmon'gaidan'. Androl snorted.

_If only anything was as delicious as this when we were preparing for the Last Battle. _Pevara could hardly reply - his stomach had been growling all morning - so she endured his loud chewing for sometime. Hopefully she was the only one who could hear.

A loud laugh broke out across the room. Queen Elayne had broken out into laughter, presumably at some joke made by Queen Nyanaeve, who sat there beside her with crossed legs, smiling against her wine cup. The King of Malkier was as stoic as ever, next to her.

Pevara noticed that if you took your eyes of them, suddenly the room did not seem as merry. The Saldean High Lords were definitely on edge - especially the lack of their Queen's presence, today of all days, seemed grating. Hadn't Faile said she wanted to celebrate her shannahar? Seemed crass for her and her husband to not show up to announce the start of the festivities.

The other leaders of Borderland nations would take offense, surely.

_Borderlanders usually don't take it too personally, as long as an explanation is provided._

_True, Androl. _Pevara eyed her bonded as he shifted in his seat ever so slightly. _You better not be thinking of grabbing another of those. _

_Of course not. _Androl replied back coolly. Pevara's eyes narrowed.

"Where is Yommen?" Androl said out loud, trying to change the topic no doubt.

_I have not seen him. But Karina is right there._

Sure enough, Lady Karina was seated slightly further away, one could almost say in her lonesome.

_Why in Light's name is he not beside her?_

Androl seemed bothered by that as well, but just as he was about to suggest going over to Lady Karina to make some small talk and ask about it, the doors behind the throne opened and Dylan, followed by Seonid and Grady, stepped into the room.

He looked rather grand - and a certain severity marked his eyebrows, something he got from his father no doubt.

"Good morning to all the Lords and Ladies present today, especially my thanks to King and Queen of Malkier, al'Lan Mandragoran and el'Nyanaeve ti al'Meara Mandragoran, and my liege, Queen of Andor and Carhein, Elayne Trakand, for sharing such an important occasion for my mother and father."

The said table nodded in unison.

"My deepest regrets for the absence of mother and father. It is merely a delay, need not worry - unfortunately my younger brother has developed a rather severe fever and my mother is loathe to celebrate under the circumstances."

"Surely you have Aes Sedai healers," Theonelle said loudly, making a show of stepping out the circle around the young lord. Dylan looked at him, and Pevara noticed something in that young boy that she hadn't seen before.

"I especially wanted to extend an apology to you, Lord Theonelle," Dylan said.

_Is the boy shrewd? _Androl wondered, but Pevara had her eyes on Seonid. Yes, she had trained the boy well.

"And the Saldean farmers who are going through such a tough winter. Filling the belly of an entire nation is a tough task, my father always says, especially during the times Queen Elayne insists on trade cessations." The little boy's eyes twinkled. Elayne, to her credit, laughed loudly again, her voice filling the open court, and many chuckles bloomed from the crowd. _The boy is good at this, _Pevara thought. Her eyes searched for Kismael. She found her looking her dead in the eye in return.

"Jokes aside, my Lord Dylan," Theonelle replied dryly, "Our farmers are the one facing the brunt of the issue. And besides… what do you know of farming?"

Immediate silence. Queen Elayne was the only one who even moved to take a sip of her wine.

But Dylan smiled.

"I know enough to have brought fifteen holds of grain, and ten of ale with me. Lord Theonelle, you perhaps forget - Two Rivers is an agricultural hub. Of course, it does not solve the immediate issue of our farmers' flooded lands, but one problem at a time, yes? It strikes me as odd, Lord Theonelle, that you chose to inform our Queen of the issue so late. So late, indeed. If only had the news of the nation's farmers come beforehand, the grain and ale would have come beforehand. But no matter, it is here now."

Dylan was not smiling now, he just said all this matter-of-factly. _He is not his father's son, but his mother's. _Pevara thought, and Androl nodded next to her.

"Tonight we celebrate! And lets pray that my brother makes a speedy recovery." Saying so, Dylan raised his cup. Poor boy only had water in it, but the toast worked. Theonelle was left fuming, and the other noble men and women had busied themselves with the exquisite mini pastries that Androl had taken such a liking to.

Pevara was perhaps the only one who saw Dylan take a huge sigh of relief as Seonid and Grady escorted him out.

* * *

Clairr'ande sat basking in the rare sun through the clouds. Theonelle's balcony was expansive - smaller than what she was used to and yet she had been through worse. Her hand instinctively went to her throat. Yes, much, much worse.

She caressed a small white misty orb, balancing it carefully in her fingers.

A servant approached her. When Clairr'ande met his eyes, he immediately bowed low.

"It is not looking favourable for Theonelle, my lady."

Clairr'ande sighed softly and dismissed the servant. She had went through much, much worse. She would do better now.


End file.
